Healing a Broken Heart
by RedStaining
Summary: Something goes very wrong in the making of the Powerpuff Girls, and they have to grow up seperated on their own, not knowing who, or what they are. Pairing reds, greens, blues and purples. Rated M. Please don't read if you're under aged or sensitive to adult themes.
1. Chapter 1

_(This is rated M for a reason. Please don't read if you're under age or sensitive to adult themes. I do not own the powerpuff girls.)_

 **Healing a broken heart**

 _Prologue_

 _It was a dark autumn night, normal people were sleeping softly in their beds, and the lights all over Townsville were dimmed down to one car here and there. It was an abnormally quiet night, as if the world was holding it's breath, knowing what to expect._

 _In his laboratory under the house, professor Utonium was muttering to himself about all and nothing, while hands were moving back and forth, grabbing this, returning that. The equation out of his mouth didn't make a lot of sense to the normal ear, but one or two specialist in the whole world would be able to comprehend what was going to happen. Since nether were around, the man was left to his racing thoughts and ideas._

 _When his wife had died, the man had sworn on his life to leave their legacy, one or another way. Being a lone father, he was denied the chance of adopting, making him turn to something crazy, and further than a long shot. The man had always been of science, and if science couldn't do it, nothing could. Professor Utonium was going to make the perfect little children they had always wanted._

 _«Sugar, spice..» He muttered to himself. They had to be sweet, kind at heart, but filled with passion and a drive to go for what they believed in. «And everything nice..» He wrapped up with a casket his late wife had left behind. It had been from her childhood, toys filled with love. As he was stirring the odd mix, something pushed him from behind, and the man barely managed to glance at his pet monkey, before a glass broke. Chemical-X, his latest, most dangerous invention._

 _Screaming in pure horror and protest, the man tried his best to save the mix, while the pet ran screaming away, some of the horrible mix stained on him. As the professor were too late, the roof went off the house in a huge bang. The house was leveraged with the earth, and the once brilliant professor Utonium was nothing but bones left._

 _A little boy had trouble sleeping, and was staring out his window. The distant blinking of the stars always calmed him down and before his little eyes shut, he saw a shooting star. Gasping and running to his window, his huge, blue eyes followed the pink streak. It was one of the prettiest things he had ever seen. When telling his parents about it the day after, they smiled, glanced at each other, and ruffled the boys hair._

 _Three places in Townsville were hit that night by such a shooting star. Few learned the truth about it, and the rest was left to their imagination._

* * *

 _Twelve years later_

 **King and Queen of Spade**

A little boy was running for his life, over broken fridges and under wrecked cars. He needed to do something, and that with the devilish hounds in his heels. He could hear them snapping after his heels, as he pushed himself to live. One wrong move and they would snap his head off. If only he could reach the hideout in time, he knew they had his back there. Around another pile of garbage, he heard one of the devils whimper as he dove under a hidden spot in the fence, on of the animals colliding with the electricity. It had stung him in the chest, and as he was staggering along, he had a hard time breathing.

Trying to calm down, with death at his back, he took several deep breaths to try to calm himself down. It was little to no help, and alas the first had made the terrible mistake, the second had learned and was coming the same way he had, under the fence. He could hear it snarl as the shock hit it, though not as bad as the first one. It was lying on it's side, whimpering from the damage. If not for the situation, he would feel bad for the animal.

The dog had problems keeping up, but he had finally managed to get some of the shock out of his body, as his feet picked up the pace. Just another hundred meters to the left, and he would be safe. With such a dangerous thing at his back, he didn't know if the sock was enough. He could hear it already picking itself up, feet dashing like chopsticks. Heart in throat, he ran up and down, through holes, between garbage, everything to agile out of it's sight. He knew every part of the place, making it to his advantage.

He would have outrun the chaser a long time ago if it hadn't been for it's flexible body and excellent sense of smell. Suddenly, it was up behind him, inching in closer. His little glimpse of hope was gone, and the man felt death at his door. This was it, he thought as eyes tried to find a way of out it, something to defend himself with, just anything. A car was half way buried in the garbage, and the split second he saw it, he made up his mind.

Grabbing a plate as he dashed by, he dove in to the car, and pushed the metal up against the one broken, open window. The rest was tightly shut down. The animal collided with the metal, making both bounce back. The split second it took them to collect each other, he pushed it up against the window with his feet, back against the door. His body was tightened up as best he could, every nerve shaking. It was over. He was so dead if it got in to the car with him. Another powerful push came in, and he almost lost his footing. Only one thing left to do.

«ACE!» The man screamed at the top of his lounges. If he was lucky, they would hear him. He wasn't that far from their base after all. On the other hand, they had all taken a really strong one yesterday and could still be sleeping it off. Never the less, he had to try.

«ACE! SNAKE! BILLY! HELL, EVEN GRUBBER! GET ME THE FUCK OUT OF HERE! I DON'T WANT TO DIE LIKE THIS, GUYS!» The animal clashed once again with the plate, and it bent out of place. His heart fell as the head came in, teeth snarling and biting after his foot. It was pushing harder and not after long, the metal bent more and gave under. He screamed horrified as it lunged over him.

His scream lasted too long, and as his eyes came up, he saw the animal being pulled out of the car. It seemed equally as shocked as him, but collected itself faster. Snapping back, it tried to bite it's attacker. With a spin, it was lunged several meters back. Sitting up, the man stared at his savior.

«Boss,» he whispered breathless and stared at the strong posture. Long legs, low healed combat boots. Tight leather pants, a tight lime green top and a black leather jacket. Fingerless gloves fisted in to balls, fighting stance in place. Dark, short hair swayed in the wind. Both stood still for a second before the animal attacked. A swift kick to it's shoulder had it whimper and pull back, planning careful what to do next.

The deadly aura seeping out had it growl in fear and doubt. The newly arrived growled back, making the animals tail tug between it's legs. One last glance, and it started running back. The man climbed out of the car, breathing heavily.

«Boss, you're a devil sent from Him in the nick of time. I thought I was dog food back there.» A hand landed on his shoulder and he stared up in to those green eyes with long, black lashes. The girl couldn't just fight, but was model material. He felt his mouth dry up.

«Good to see you're in one piece, Lil' Arturo. Let's get back to the base. I believe the others haven't even opened their eyes yet.» He nodded and followed those steady feet. Biting his lip, he felt like the question should be asked before others could hear it.

«Mind me asking what you are doing up so late? Not that I don't appreciate being saved and all, but considering yesterday's hard core party-»

«I was jogging,» she answered short, and he left it at that. Just the fact that she had given an answer at all and not showed him off at once was an improvement. The girl was known for keeping her secrets closer than her enemies, and everyone knew the boss kept her enemies close. No one had anything with what she was doing on her spare time, and nobody pushed her to know. They all needed their personal space.

«Get the fuck up, you lazy bastards,» the boss said as she kicked in the door to their base. It was a home made house. It had started out as a little room, but as their group had expanded, they kept building new rooms, including a kitchen and a bathroom. It wasn't much compared to normal houses, but looking back at where they had started, it was a glorious sight.

Ace was sleeping on the couch, glasses on the bridge of his nose, mouth open. It wasn't a pretty sight. Leaving the door open to ventilate the bad air, she flipped the couch with one arm, making the grown man fall to the floor with a death yell. It wasn't a far fall, and he didn't take much damage.

«Get the others, I have glorious news.» Her sadistic smile sent shivers down their spines. Hurrying along, they awoke the rest of the sleeping members, some more reluctant to get up, others responding on first command.

Their leader was sitting at the table as they came in, sipping from a bottle of vodka. Everyone knew better than to try to stop her. Ace was standing at the door as the rest took seats or hung around close to the walls. Everyone were waiting for the girl to speak up.

«Word came back from north side. It's been four days sense the offer was made, and today Lil' Arturo returned with their answer.» Everyone was waiting for her to finish before anyone said anything.

«One would have thought after the crushing victory over eastern region the others would have learned, but this doesn't seem like the case. Instead of taking my generous offer,» she rose from her chair, bottle in hand. «They've sent dogs after my guys.» eyes darted to Lil' Arturo, who didn't dare meet their eyes. Sure, they were going to blame him for not voicing himself good enough and starting this war.

«I don't take lightly on these sort of insults,» She snarled and leaned over the table. «Get your strength up, guys. We're attacking tonight.» It was quiet at the table. If the idea was bad, or if it was too early in the morning, no one knew; it was all too quiet.

«To BC,» Ace said, raising his own bottle, probably filled with water instead of vodka. The rest hit the table with everything they had, clearly awoken now. «To BC!» They shouted in union. Now, everyone clearly pumped for the incoming fight, Lil' Arturo nervously shuffled about. Ace, the mother of the house, was the only one taking notice. He had taken in every single one of them, and he knew all in and out. Whatever was on their mind, he knew it before they realized themselves.

«Arturo?» He asked, eyebrow cocked his way. The kitchen was cleared, people shouting and psyching themselves up. They weren't known as the Brute's for nothing. It was really too early for anything in his opinion, but the man couldn't help but look out for his own. They were practically his children after all.

«When I was up north, it wasn't Fuzzy I talked to,» he muttered. The boy seemed rather spooked, eyes glancing restless around. As if someone was watching him.

«Someone else have taken over? I haven't heard of such a thing,» Ace muttered, taking another, long sip of his bottle. It did good to his dry throat.

«Yeah,» he muttered.

«Speak up, boy. We don't have all day, and whatever it was, it couldn't have been worse than Fuzzy.» With a grimace he slightly shook his head to get away from those unpleasant memories. The leader up north had a very bad reputation on him; worse than most gangs would consider take credit for. Ace had visited the place once, and never had he dared to return. The previous leader of the north was ruthless, and had a horrifying thirst for flesh. At one point, the green man had wondered if his crew also thirsted for human flesh like their leader, but didn't dare to try find out. Previous parties had been sent in a group of three; no way was he letting one of his children in to that place alone.

After Ace, BC was the only one to venture in there alone, and return unharmed. No one could harm her, and last night had been Arturo's first run alone. The change of power was probably the only reason he was alive.

«Take your time and tell me the whole story, right up until BC saved you.» Ace knew everything. He was sharper than most, and had caught on to the incident at their boss' words. It didn't take much to pitch two and two together.

«No problem getting to north,» the boy muttered after swallowing a couple of times. With the kid, it could be slow on the start, but once he opened his mouth, the words always came rushing out. Ace knew exactly what to say to get him to talk. «It wasn't hard to see the change of power considering Fuzzy was greeting everyone at the front gate. A rather,» shaking his head, he searched for the right word. «Bodiless welcome. Looked about three days old.» Ace rose an eye. Someone had beheaded Fuzzy? Well, damn. The bastard really had to be worse than the pinkette. Bloody hell.

«I didn't get to meet the boss, only that he had declined our offer. They said they would give me a five minutes head start to get out of their territory, but I swear, barely a minute passed before the hell hounds were in my heels. Would have been ripped apart too if BC hadn't insisted on putting up that electricity fence. Or pulled the dog out of the car straight before it bit my face off.» He gulped and a hand went up to his throat.

«They're dead.» A dark voice said at the entrance. BC was staring at Arturo with her mixed eyes. They always seemed so angry, yet strong and safe in an insane way. She was like the eye of a hurricane. Deadly if approached wrong, but calm and warm if kept within the perimeter. «Whomever did this, is going to get a royal beating for messing with the Brute's. I promise that,» she turned and exited, leaving them there.

The kid seemed nervous, but Ace pulled his mouth displeased down.

«Ace?» Arturo said, but it didn't help. He was lost in thought. The man could still remember the day he had found the girl. He hadn't been old himself, maybe in the midst of his teens. It had been a rather cold and quiet night. The stars had been blinking kindly at him, and the boy was shuddering. Ace had been homeless his whole life; green in the skin he doubted he would ever find his family. Every person he had encountered looked different somehow, even in skin, but none green like his. The junkyard ad become his home, and the child lived of whatever he could find. Whatever scraps he could draw together.

Out of no where, a meteor had made a touch down just a couple hundred meters away, yet it had brought a dangerous shock wave with it. Curious like kids most, he had ran over. The dust was still all over the place, making it hard to see anything. After some time, he had managed to fumble across the crater, and down in it. There had been a child at the bottom. Her small, petite form told him she couldn't be more than seven, if even smaller. Her tiny body had been easy to carry, and the next couple of weeks, he had tried to get anything out of her. Any kind of identification.

He hadn't found anything. She didn't know who she was, or how she had gotten there. With his big heart, he had taken her in, doing as best he could. Somehow, they had managed; due to her inhuman strength, and before he knew it, their little family had grown from him alone to a house with over ten people. It was more than the man would ever be able to dream about.

«Ace?» the question came again, and he snapped out of his memory. The girl had changed a lot over the years. Not just physically or mentally, but there was something else. He could tell by just looking at her. Something else was changing, and she could feel it too.

«It's fine,» he smiled, and rose from the chair. It was time to try to talk to the boss again. His boys and girls were running around, beefing up to the fight. They didn't fight with weapons; hence given the name Brutes. Bare strength were their qualities, and no one could match their boss. Many had tried, and all had failed.

«Billy, have you seen BC?» he asked the enormous man with carrot green hair. He had small eyes, huge muscles – built with a lot of fat – but were one of the kindest there was.

«Ace,» the man cheered up. He was kneeling over an injury, like always. Robin was one of their newest members, and they didn't know what had caused it, but she was very hesitant and kept a lot to herself. The girl seemed to have taken a liking to BC, and their boss was the only reason she was staying. A couple of days ago, she had tried to fight one of the boys, Ace didn't know over what and never bothered to find out seeing everyone fought over everything all the time, and he had managed to hurt her knee really bad. It was bruised, bloody and he could see a bone sticking out. As if it wasn't bad enough, it was starting to turn white and yellow. Infected, the man grimaced. Medicine was one of the most expensive things on the marked, and they couldn't afford any. Billy was doing a wonderful job, working his own magic. It wasn't nearly as bad as yesterday.

«I think she went out in the back. Said something about a bat?» he muttered to himself while working. The brunette was just starting from one to the other without saying. She didn't like Ace, and it bothered him that she wouldn't tell him why. He had never touched her his entire life, and she seemed afraid the second their eyes met. It told him the child had seen hell to be so scared of strangers.

«Thanks. Get well, little girl,» the man muttered as he moved out back with a small smile. The only respond he got was her averted gaze. BC was going to pick up her old bat? She was going to be more serious than he had seen her in years. One one point in life, the girl had carried her favorite choice of weapon; an old baseball bat. Guns and knives weren't her thing, but the bat seemed to do the work for quite some time, before she had dropped it. It had been a shock, straight out of the blue sky. None but Ace had dared to ask, and it only happened once. It had scored him a deadly glare and a black eye, lasting for two weeks.

Strolling in to the scrape yard, he found her several hundred meters away from their house. She was sitting on top of a pile of junk, bat in hand. It had a huge crack he hadn't noticed before, and a green lightning on the side. Her fingers were following the break of the wood, and her eyes fogged over, distant. One foot was tucked under the other knee, right foot hanging over the roof of a car, swaying softly in the wind.

«Buttercup,» he spoke up, just to let her know he was there. She wasn't very happy about jump scares, and generally little friendly toward people when lost in thought. The girl was normally friendly toward everyone, but at rare occasions, she needed her time alone. Ace could relate, and had warned his comrades to leave her alone when such times came around.

«Heard the leader of north isn't Fuzzy anymore,» she shrugged lazily with one shoulder, as if considering if the topic was worth mentioning at all. «Was rather cruel with the beheading and placing it in plane sight for his comrades to see every single day.»

The girl was one hell of a fighter, and sometimes a lone wolf, but even she knew where the line was. Arrogant and teasing, sure; but never evil. There was a spark in her eyes, where she tried her best to run the gang and keep up appearance, but Ace knew her. BC could never be cruel like some of the other gang leaders.

«Do you know who the new leader is?» Ace asked, eyes meeting her averted head. Something in the distance was more interesting to stare at than him. It was something the girl did whenever something unpleasant of topic came up. He saw through all her lies, so she had stopped trying years ago.

«I took a stroll over there a couple of days ago.» Ace nodded. The girl came and went like she wanted; a black cat. No one had the power to stop her, and even trying would result in a quick trip to the ER. «Never liked the leader of north; he had disgusting habits.» She made a grimace, trying to not gag from the flowing memories. «However, we had an arrangement. I would come visit, by myself, every third day, in exchange for Robin.»

It was news to him. Ace had never heard the story of how Robin had come to stay with them, or where she had originally come from. He hissed under his breath. If the girl came from Fuzzy, then he could understand how she was skeptical to him and didn't really interact with others that well. She tightened her grip around the bat.

«I think he bought her off the Dograce or NeedWant,» she tilted her head, the mere mentioning of the places had her wanting to smash something. Ace could only nod. He had heard about the places, but never really been there. The Dograce were apparently a slave market, while the NeedWant was a brothel. A girl, Susanne had come to them from the NeedWant, but she never talked about it. Whenever the topic would come up, her bright face would turn dark, and the girl had muttered something about not wanting to talk about it.

«He gave me her for coming over every third day and do whatever was on the menu. Wasn't much, a cup of something to drink, play a game of some sort. The man talked alot.» Something in her eyes, Ace witnessed. Regret? Remorse? Not quite. He wondered if it could be pity? Did BC feel like the death of Fuzzy was a pity? He didn't judge. The man might have been great company to some people; doubting it, thought. The pink haired man was known for being ruthless, even so more than BC.

«Needless to say, I found personally out that Fuzzy was dead, and someone had taken over as the new leader. Not that I mind, it means our deal is over and I don't have to come there any more for those ridiculous meetings; but his grotesque death has me thinking about the new guy. Must be pretty strong and fucked up in the head to do something like that, don't you think?» She finally met his eyes, and Ace bit his lip. She was right. BC was always right.

«Hench, the bat,» he commented.

«Yeah, the bat,» the girl muttered and returned her gaze to the familiar weapon. It was like an old, dear friend. A dangerous one, she'd rather not pick up if not in utter need. His fingers combed his hair from top to bottom, and Ace sighed.

«So, who's coming with us tonight?» he asked.

«Everyone but Arturo and Robin,» she said. An eyebrow rose with wonder. It didn't seem like she was going to elaborate on that, so he turned and went back to the house, leaving her there with her deep thoughts.

The rest of the day was spent in that place, shifting now and then as her limbs fell asleep. It wasn't like her to think things through, to try to comprehend the situation and make a plan of attack. Her normal rule was to charge, beat the crap out of her enemy and celebrate with a bottle of alcohol. This time wasn't like any other, and that touched something inside of her. Nervousness? Hesitation? She didn't like it, and it only had her more willing to do something about it. Night couldn't come fast enough for her, she thought as her lime irises watched the clouds drift by.

Her stomach growled a couple of times, but that only had her take a sip of the vodka bottle beside her. She couldn't eat, barely think, plan. When blinking, she could see the severed head. It made her sick to her stomach, and could barely get any food down the last days. Buttercup had never killed anyone before, not even when entering a frenzy of anger. Beaten people senseless, yes several times, but to actually kill someone – no.

«Fuck,» the curse snapped and she kicked the roof of the broken car. The sun was finally starting to fall from the sky.

«Boss?» a voice muttered and she turned her head, ready to bark at anyone trying to spoil her privacy. The words haltered in her voice as she stared at the brunette. Those baby blue eyes touched something unknown inside her heart; like it had the first time she had seen her. One look from those pupils, and she just knew she had to save her, one way or another, use whatever means to do so.

«Robin.» Her voice was soft, waving at her to get up there. The girl climbed the garbage, and took a seat beside the lime green eyed one. Before anyone could say anything, she was handed a sandwich. Unable to refuse her, BC picked up the piece of bread and took a bite. It seemed to please the brunette as her shoulders fell a little down. It seemed to relax her, so the boss took another unpleasant bite. She managed to keep the food down with brute force.

«How are things going?» Buttercup asked. She was hoping the girl was getting along with the others, despite the fight the other day. From what she could tell, they both had it coming, and the once present tension between them were gone.

«They're,» the hesitation wasn't long, but noticeable there. «Fine. I'm doing good here.» A small, hidden smile at the corner of her lip. Robin rarely smiled, let alone talked. Progress, Buttercup thought while nodding. Hesitant, the girl managed a stutter.

«What about you?»

«Ace had you asking, didn't he?» She quickly said, eyes staring at the beautifully colored horizon. What wouldn't she do to be able to fly forever in the chase of that beauty? Just get leave everything behind and fly. Such a ridiculous thought. Humans couldn't fly.

«Yeah, he worries,» she said. The girl wasn't sure to stay or leave, making Buttercup wonder if everyone were actually scared of her. Nothing wrong with wanting a little privacy in a small house stuffed with other people.

«It's fine. I get it,» the leader scuffed, making Robin calm down. Had she thought she would turn on her there for a moment? Good thing she had gotten her out of Fuzzy's sadistic claws. Despite his somewhat growth on her, she was glad the bastard was dead. Maybe not glad, but more like relieved.

Before Robin could say anything else, Buttercup rises from her seat.

«It's about time. Let's head out,» the boss shouts at the top of her lounges before emptying the bottle, smashing it against a broken refrigerator. It shattered in to a thousand pieces as she jumped down from the pile. «Arturo and Robin stays behind,» she informed while heading straight for the gang. They thought they could escape her sharp gaze, but once spoken to, the members scattered all to theirs, leaving Ace behind. He didn't seem intimidated with her hard stare, hands in his pockets, slightly leaning back against a cooking stove.

«Understood, boss,» the man shrugged and they both headed for the front of the house, people gathering, realizing her outburst wasn't as dangerous as first thought.

«We're taking the Cat and Boar over there,» Buttercup shouted, gathering everyone closer to the cars, both of them big enough to contain the pumped crew. Many were snickering, some grinning with excitement. It had been some time since the last gang fight. The Cat was a pickup while the Boar was a van. Both of them a beautiful color of black.

«Good work on the upgrade,» Buttercup noted the boys on charge of the vehicles. They shun up at her praise, and the members loaded on, Lil' Arturo came running up to her.

«I want to help, boss,» he said, determent. A small, rare smile passed on her lips, making all the boys' hearts skip a beat. She slapped a hand lightly on his shoulder friendly.

«I need you to keep a close eye on the fort, in case these slick bastards decide to attack our base while we're gone. Think you can do that?» His eyes shun up at this task, the man nodding several times.

«Understood!» he shouted, the rest joining in with howls of their own, adrenaline pumping. Some might even be on something, but no rule forbid them from doing so. As long as they managed to do their work and not die, Buttercup didn't care what they were taking.

«T-Take care,» Robin shouted. The girl was clearly making progress, the leader thought, another rare smile shifting across her mouth. Someone beat her to the answer.

«We'll bring BC back safe,» a man laughed from the back of the Cat, and Buttercup stared at him. Shaggy, brown hair with dark eyes. It was Mike, the one Robin had fought with a couple of days back. Whatever difference they once had, was gone. Robin was making a rather rude gesture at him, but the boy just laughed as they took off, his eyes staring back until the girl was out of sight.

Shaking her head, Buttercup stared at the road up ahead. It wouldn't take long to get to the north base, and her body was getting restless. She needed to fight someone, kick their ass really good. Not just for attacking Arturo like they had, treating him like some dog toy, but because something inside her was restless.

Buttercup didn't like the change of power. Fuzzy had always ruled north, ever sinse she had woken up in that crater and met Ace.

North was different from their base; bigger, more secured. From the little information she had managed to gather over the years, the gangs had been devided for years before she had landed there. The fighting between North, South, West and East had lived on for decades.

They parked a little away from the gate, and Buttercup signaled for Ace to follow her, the rest would stay behind until she gave signal. They strolled up to the gate. The guards didn't seem that interested at first, until they were basically up on them.

«H-H-Hold it!» A boy shouted.

«I'm here for your leader,» Buttercup said, grabbing the boy by his neck, his comrade opening and closing his mouth, lost for words. He didn't know what to do for a couple of seconds, before she turned her glare to him. «Now,» she demanded, and the boy sprinted off. The one in her grip was trying to get out of her hold, but she wasn't going to release him before their leader was in sight. Maybe not even then.

It didn't take long for the boy to return, several men with him. Her eyes darted from on to the other, trying to figure out who the leader was. Many of them were familiar faces, but she couldn't think of any of them being able to overpower Fuzzy, let along go against him.

«What the hell is this damn noise?» A man shouted, going straight for her. His hair was standing all over the place, raven black. His forest green eyes seemed to pierce her soul, and his shoulders were twice as broad as hers, bare chested. Pants hung loose around his waste, as if rushed to get dressed. He was big, and new. It was a man she had never, ever seen before.

«Can't a man get laid around here without someone making ruckus? What the hell do you want, woman?» he said, storming straight up to her. She released his man, turning fully against him. He wasn't taking her seriously, and it had her blood boil.

«You're the new leader?» she rose an eyebrow. He folded his arms over the naked chest.

«Yeah. You got a problem with that?» he snarled. Buttercup nodded to Ace, and he waved two fingers in the air. Before any of them could react, she punched the man straight in the gutter. The rest of her gang came storming in, laughing and jumping the unprepared gang. Many took running, before turning and coming back to fight. They were many more, but not as skilled.

Punching two guys in the face at the same time, she advanced forward, aiming for the leader. If he had really taken down Fuzzy, he wouldn't be all lights out with just one punch. A wall had broken, and she rushed in, darkness making it hard to see. It was getting dimmer outside, but not as much as inside. Squinting, she gazed around, trying to catch any kind of shifting. Was he waiting to attack? Maybe kicked straight out.

A couple seconds passed before she lowered her shoulders. Disappointing. She had really thought he was going to be tougher than that.

«Sunovabitch,» someone grunted and she heard the crumble as he rose. Something beside the wall had broke. «Alright. You want to fight, bitch? It's on,» the man laughed. In a swift movement he was up in her face, arm swinging. Backing up wasn't enough, and she was punched down in to the ground. The breath was knocked out of her lounges, and before she could regain herself, he stepped on her. Not the way you walk, or run up a stair; more like when trying to squash a bug. It had her scream out in shock. He was fast.

A sick laugh over her head snapped Buttercup back to reality, and she was twirling around on the ground to get out of his step, succeeded, pushed up from the ground, and planted both heels to his chin, sending him flying. Strong or not, with her brute force, she would be able to shake his brain and knock him unconscious.

The huge crash indicated the break of the roof, and a huge thud. He had landed on the second floor. Before she could smile, a sharp pain to her side made her buckle slightly. Feeling the left side, she cursed. Might be a broken rib bone. It didn't hurt much, beside from when she was moving and breathing.

«Cunt,» the man cursed from second floor, catching her attention. It astonished her. How the hell wasn't he knocked out? She had given it her all, and that had been enough to send people in to coma before. He laughed again. This was beyond her, she thought. The man was crazy; and she understood why Fuzzy hadn't stood a chance.

«You're one hell of a fighter,» he said, and she heard a crack. Was he breaking something back in place? The man jumped down from the hole, and she saw him massaging his jaw. Did he break it back in place? No fucking way.

«What are you?» she said. It sounded breath taken yet like a growl. He haltered, rising an eyebrow at her.

«Wait, don't tell me-? You really don't know who I am? Tell me you're really not just attacking me head on without knowing who I am?» She was tempted to shake her head, but it would just look too stupid, so decided on waiting. His hand left his jaw, and a finger pointed at her. A smile tugged at the corner of his lip.

«This-» He blinked, laughed, and stared at her. «This is fucking priceless.» And that was when she had had enough. The man was making fun of her, and there was no way she would let anyone do something so outrageous. Charging on, full speed, she gave him a left hook. The man was prepared and parried it. Somewhat, she was faster, more flexible, and before he could counter, she connected her fist with his chin. It had him side step once, before collecting himself back in.

Without a warning, he kicked her in the gut, probably making the fracture worse. Groaning and muffling a scream, Buttercup grabbed her side, stepping away from him. How could he take so many of her blows, yet seem so unfazed? It was like punching an unbreakable metal wall. Bawling her fists, she prepared for another attack, not giving up. They were slightly shaking. The pain was great, but nothing she couldn't handle.

The nervousness was back. The unsettling feeling of something wrong; a strange sense of something sickening incoming. Her shaking wouldn't stop, and her breath was ragged.

«You're attacking Butch Jojo, the greatest King among the districts, and you don't even know who I am? What the fuck kind of rock do you live under?» He mocked. It didn't seem like he noticed her shaking.

«I don't live under a rock, you fuck head,» she growled. The shaking stopped, and she charged again. If he was going to waste time talking, she was going to make another move and do as much damage as she could. No way was she backing down. Never.

She and Fuzzy had once fought, ending in her victory, but just barely. Of course, they had written it off as a tie as one of his men had aimed a gun at her head.

«Then how can you not know about me? I mean, Jojo's own the greatest, richest, best company in town. We're the third richest family in the entire world,» Butch laughed, fending off her attacks. Either he was catching up, concentrating, or she was loosing power. Her head was spinning slightly. Jojo? She didn't remember. It didn't seem familiar at all. Then, the only place she had known and ever really cared about, was the junk yard and their rivals. Anything outside didn't really matter.

«Fuck off,» she snarled. Buttercup didn't like the fact that he had been outside the junkyard, and she hadn't even thought about it. Keeping everything in order had taken up all the years.

«Such a foul mouth on such a beautiful girl,» Butch snickered and before she could stop him, he had caught her chin in his hand, lifting it up. Buttercup had never blushed before, never felt the jolt now surging through her stomach. It felt odd, strange. His grin only grew at her obvious reaction.

«My, my. What do we have here?» he laughed, breath tickling her cheek. «Don't tell me you're actually a virg-» and her knee flew up, kicking him where the sun never shine. For the first time ever, she saw his eyes widen, face twist with pain. All color drained from his face, and he released her. Spinning on her heel, she ran for the exit. It was too warm, and she needed to get away from him, this instant. He was a leech, a virmin, a fucking insect.

«We're going home,» She shouted, cheeks still red.

«Boss?» Mike said, the man closest to her. He was surrounded by three fallen guys, pounding on the fourth in hand.

«I SAID WE'RE LEAVING,» She roared and dug her nails in his skin as she dragged him along, catching the rest of her teams attention. They stared dumbfounded at her for a couple of seconds, not really believing their eyes. «NOW! FUCKING MOVE IT,» She screeched and they all started running toward the car.

«I'M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU, PSYCHO BITCH!» Butch roared behind her, trying his best to get back up on his feet, but it was all in vain. His face was still twitching with rage and torment. As they hightailed out of there, he was still shouting death threats at her, promising all types of torture.

«BC?» Ace said, eyes darting to her. She was staring away from the gang. Everyone were holding their breath, waiting for her to speak.

«Just fucking drive,» she said. They didn't dare bug her more, and no one caught a hold of the dark hue on her cheeks.

* * *

Groaning and whimpers of pain surrounded him, as Butch winked for another one to step up. He was dressed in just pants, and attacked the person as their feet came in contact with the ring. The person screamed instantly, and he ripped his shoulders out of it's socket, earning another scream. It was frustrating. Usually when inflicting pain on others, it helped him ease up and made him feel better. This was the twelfth guy, and his anger was just as bad as before. A devilish thought hit him, and he stepped on the guys knee, breaking his foot into an ugly angle. The guy screamed, and fell over.

«Butch,» someone called out in the distance, but he wasn't listening. He was like a shark to a blood trail. The man was begging, seeing those evil, green orbs shine with mischievous. He could feel his hands glowing. How much could this man survive? Oh, he just had to know. Swinging a hand at his skull, he cracked it open. Blood splattered all over the place, making him exited. It lasted seconds as two lime green eyes came in view. She had stared at him with such hate, anger, and then, a twist to vulnerable, shocked, almost soft.

The anger returned. She had rejected him. No female had ever rejected him. No living female was able to reject him. The whimpers around him had him turn to them. Die, die, he needed blood. Gore, violence. Death. Blank rage took over, and Butch let the inner demons come out. More screaming, people running, and laughter. He was laughing. They could run, but no way were they getting away.

It didn't take long for him to get hold of the first guy, but there wasn't a cracked scull. No blood. No gore. No death. Confused, he looked at his unmoving arm. It was held back by another. Who the fuck would dare try to stop him? He was Butch fucking Jojo! No one could oppose him.

Roaring, he let the guy go, and turned to the intruder with flying fists. One second passed, two, and he was on his stomach on the floor, hand locked in a strong grip. It was tightning in, and turning his head, he came eye to eye with two red ones. His breath was heavy, all thoughts of the female was gone, and all he could think was shit. He had fucked up.

«B-Brick? M-man, I didn't know. I- I wasn't thinking-»

«Clearly not,» the cold voice spoke, and he snapped the captivated hand in two. Butch muffled from the pain, refusing to let himself to scream. No way was he getting that out of him. His older brother released him right away, and Butch broke his hand back in place. It still hurt like a bitch, and he glared up.

«I don't care what happens,» he spoke with a monotone voice, eyes hard as stone. Butch could feel his will breaking under it. If he ever had any intentions of fearing anyone, it would be his older brother Brick. Despite being super human, there was something off about his brother. The brunette wasn't much of a compassionate person himself, but he was capable of laughter, joy and sorrow. Brick lacked all of those, ruling with an iron hand. He was like a machine.

«When I tell you to stop, you do so.»

«Yeah, sorry,» Butch muttered.

«If there is a problem, you deal with it. Don't go around killing my workers,» the redhead harshly said and turned to leave. His arm was already starting to heal, and the throbbing pain had turned numb. Growling under his breath, Butch picked himself up from the floor and left the gym, grown men still quivering in the corners. No one dared move, barely breathe. At the exit, a leather jacket hung. He grabbed it, not caring for a shirt. Every girl would stare at his majestic abs. Almost every girl. Anger returned. He had fought her shirtless, and she hadn't even stared. Not even taken a peak. She wasn't interested. _How could she not be interested?!_

Those lime green eyes. Punching the wall, he moved along with a snarl, leaving it to the butlers to fix it. Damn that Brick. He was going to kill her if he ever saw her again. After regaining himself from her cheating surprise attack, he had searched all over the junk yard, over three times without finding them. No house, no cars, no tracks. They had just disappeared. How the fuck was he going to kill her if he couldn't even find her?

If he couldn't kill someone in the house, he would just have to go another place, Butch thought as a smirk formed on his lips. And he knew the perfect place for it. Picking himself up from the ground, he flew through the sky and headed for one of his favorite places in Townsville. With no traffic, it only took him five minutes to get there.

Landing in a street alley, he knocked on a wooden door. A gape was opened, before closed, and the door flew open.

«Welcome back, Mr. Jojo,» the voice said, gesturing for him to come in. He didn't even bother answering and stormed in. It seemed like a normal bar, and he headed straight for one of the corners. Few dared stare at him longer than a second, and he was out of their sight after that. Stairs to a lower level creaked under his boots, and he entered a smoked area. Several men were standing around, some drinking, others smoking, all chatting.

«Butch, you're back!» a voice shouted out with a full laughter. He lifted his murderous gaze and stared at Mr. Calhou, the man running the place. «Welcome back to Dograce. What can we do for you today?» he smiled. Butch was his best costumer, and whatever he craved, he would get.

«I need something extreme today,» he said, crossing his arms. The man smiled a slimy toad smile. He was round enough to be rolled around. The man was living fat of every earning down here. Waving him over, Butch followed. Mr. Calhou rarely disappointed him.

«I've actually been saving this one. Trained it really good, too. Shown promising results this far, and as of now, the best one I've got. No one has shown as promising results as this one.» Butch rose an eyebrow.

«More than Kathrine?» The fat man turned toward him, grin almost slicing his head in two.

«Oh, much more.» The snicker was having him pull at the corner of his lips. Interesting. They came up to a ring, both men and women standing around it, some laughing, others cheering, more booing. «Looks like we're in luck. It's just about to start.»

It was a three meter radius round hole. At one corner, a two meter tall man with a chainsaw in hand and flamethrower on back was agitating the viewers. He was flexing, showing large muscles. Butch didn't care for him, and stared at the other one instead. It was a small girl, thin and small. Her blond hair was placed up in pigtails, and she was naked but for a blue collar around her neck. No weapons. Her eyes were staring out in space, as if she was dead. Blue, cold orbs. Butch's heart skipped a beat. They were just like the lime green girls. Same shape, different color.

«We call her Bubbles,» Mr. Calhou said. Butch glanced at him sideways. Sure, they usually named their girls like they were porn stars, but this had to be the stupidest name he had ever heard. The man was about to explain himself, but decided against it. «Just watch,» he said.

«She's going to be torn to shreds. Five grand on the big one,» Butch said, leaning against the rail, staring down in the pit.

«You're on,» Mr. Calhou said, nodding to the judge to let the fight start.

«Bet's closing,» he announced. People were staring with glee, horror and expectation. Butch wasn't expecting much, really. All the other fighters had at least had some kind of weapon, even a spoon. This girl, she had nothing. The man shouted out, and the large man in the pit charged, laughing as his chainsaw was turned on, the crowd cheering on.

As the man closed the gap between him and the girl, he hurled his chainsaw down on her head. In the nick of time, she turned to the side, dodging it with ease. As she tilted her head back, her eyes seemed to come in focus, and Butch was sure of it. Those hating eyes. It was just like the green bitch. The girl lifted her arm, punched the side of the chain saw, sending it flying in to the wall. The man, not realizing what had just happened, stared dumb from his weapon to the little girl. A soft, sweet smile came upon her lips, as her hand pierced his heart. The man, three times her size, coughed up blood and she pushed him back with the other hand. He fell to the ground, dead. Blood splattered the walls, the ground, her skin.

Her innocent laughter sent shivers down his spine. She was crazy. Not just blood thirsty crazy, but like his brother. The girl was insane. Chainsaw still on, she moved over and picked it up, giggling as she went loose on his carcase. The crowd cheered, some gasping and others laughing.

«Well, then,» Mr. Calhou turned to him and opened his palm, ready for his payment. Butch flickered out money, more than asked, and placed it in his hands.

«I'm buying her,» he said, managing to halter the annoying smile. It stiffened up, the man refusing to drop it completely down.

«I understand you're interested, Butch, but the girl is not for sale. I'm making alot on her.»

«What is your price?» He said. Money wasn't an issue, and he needed the girl. Maybe killing someone similar to the green eyed bitch would ease his anger.

«Butch, she's not for sale,» the man said again. «Many have been interested, but she's my best creation yet.»

«Two,» Butch said, crossing his arms over his chest.

«Two million?» The man sounded almost insulted.

«Billion,» Butch said. Seeing the visible sweat on Mr. Calhou's forehead almost had him go higher. People were so easily bought. Everyone had a price. With that kind of money, he could retire and live in luxury for the next fifty years. If he ever managed to live that long.

«Well, not for sale might have been a little harsh. You are my favorite costumer, Butch, so I don't see why not sell her to you,» the man slyly said, and Butch wanted to spit him in the face. Disgusting. Picking up his cellphone from his jacket, he transferred two billions over. They had done a lot of business in the past, so Butch knew where to send the money. The owner checked the bank account, almost jumping with delight at the huge number, before whistling. Two guys popped up at his side.

«Mr. Jojo just bought up Bubbles.» The men nodded and left just as swiftly. «It's always a pleasure doing business with you,» the fat man grinned and Butch flashed one evil of his own. It seemed to take the man off guard, because he paled slightly. Not that he cared for the girl; god no. He cared only for himself and his safety. Everyone else could go die.

The men returned with the girl in a leach. She didn't have any clothes, and Butch didn't care either way. She wasn't going to live for long anyway. Her eyes were back to being dead. It was like staring at a turned off robot. They left the Dograce, and Butch tugged her along. She didn't make any sound of protest, any heartwarming thanks, in fact she didn't make a sound at all. The girl just followed him. Many turned their gaze as they passed, but Butch ignored it. People bought people all the time at the Dograce. No big fucking deal.

When they got outside, he grabbed her around the waste and threw her over the shoulder, taking off in to the air. She didn't say anything, didn't protest. It was like carrying a ragged doll. Butch had owned Bubbles for a couple of minutes, and he was already tired of her lack of emotions. When fighting, she had shown signs of hate, disgust, like the green eyed girl; but there had been other parts too. Those crazy parts. The insane laughter.

He didn't know why he was taking her back to the mansion, but leaving her in a back alley after killing her would be reckless. Not that he couldn't bail himself if charged with murder, but he'd rather spend the money on something else. Besides, Mojo would flip tables if he found out Butch had gotten careless and gotten himself thrown in jail on purpose. Brick would surely give him a royal beating too for being stupid. He could live without that.

She was still in his hold, and didn't say anything as he landed at the front porch. It was getting boring already, and he let her down, staring at her. The girl was staring in to space. Had he been imagining the moment of badassness from her? Maybe all the smoke down at the Dograce had made him high, had him seeing things? Pulling her in, he let go of her lace. He was getting damn thirsty. Heading for the kitchen, he found himself a bottle of rum. Taking several greedy gulps, he turned to return back. She was standing on the same freaking spot, still dead.

Killing a dead girl wasn't any fun, and he felt slightly irritated. Why was she so boring? Why couldn't she be more living like the green one, so he could kill her and get his revenge? Like hell that lime green girl could resist him. He was Butch freaking Jojo! No girl could ever.

«You're one fucked up freak,» he muttered to the girl, eyes staring up and down. His thoughts wandered off. Would it be considered rape? Hell, like he cared. She wasn't bad looking, but then again; if she was dead as a fish, it would be like fucking a doll. There was no way he was that desperate.

His eyes came to those dead eyes. She didn't look anything like the green one at that moment. Nothing about that lifeless shell reminded the aggressive brunette. The eye color wasn't right, not even the hair. This one had long, blond hair, while his minx was a brunette. He didn't know, but maybe their bodies were different too. Stepping up to the blond, he placed a hand on her head. Well, this one was a little smaller. She seemed thinner too, but that could be lack of food generally. Her rib bones were sticking out, after all.

Butch grabbed her chin and lifted it. Something in the eyes flickered. Maybe she reacted to actions, he wondered and let go. His hand came up and he slapped her hard across the cheek. The girl took a step back and he saw the orbs flicker. Hate, violence, killer intent. The eyes were the same. His heart skipped a beat. He was going to open his mouth, maybe she would respond, but he didn't get the chance as she attacked.

She was faster than the green one. Before he managed to register it, she had punched him four times in the chest, sending him flying with a spinning kick. He landed hard, breaking a table and crushing a chair through the wall. She laughed that odd laugh, and he blinked.

It wasn't the green one. This was a different person. They were similar at one point, but it wasn't her. It wasn't that little bitch who had kneed him in the crown jewels.

«That's just too bad,» Butch muttered, and as she charged him, he grabbed a hold of her small neck, rising her up. Her laughter died, and her eyes blinked rapidly. Another change in personality, he figured. Tears came up to her eyes ans she trashed in his hand. Her tries were petite. Pff, Butch was bored. Time to get ride of her.

«Butch!» Someone yelled, and he turned to the entrance. Blinking, he rose an eyebrow. «What are you doing,» he said and stormed toward them.

«Getting ride of a burden,» Butch answered, as if it was the most natural thing ever.

«She's a human being,» the man barked, and tore the doll out of his grip. This angered him.

«Boomer! I just bought her at the Dograce. She's mine to do with as please. Stay the fu-»

«Then I'll buy her from you, twice as much.» Those dark blue eyes stared hard at him. Growling Butch sighed. Brick was a god damn narcissist robot and Boomer was an over sensitive bitch. Fuck the both of them.

«Fine. That'll make four.» His brother held the blond tight. She was still sobbing. Weird, he thought. Maybe because he was treating her like a baby, she was reacting like one. Talk about broken.

«Four million?» Boomer said, turning to leave with her.

«Nah, billion,» Butch smirked at his brothers rising eyebrows. «You were going to kill of something you bought for four BILLION?» the blond said confused, and rather disgusted. Butch was big at spending money, but this might have been a new record.

«No, you fucking moron. I paid two billion for her. You're paying me twice as much, which makes it four.» Boomer just shook his head, as if not even wanting to comment.

«What fucking ever,» Butch said, a headache starting to grow. «I'm going to bed. If you haven't paid me by I wake up tomorrow, she still belongs to be, and I will kill her,» he could hear his brother fishing up his phone, but he wasn't staying to figure out. It could be tomorrows worries. Butch always finished his threats, and Boomer knew it. If he really wanted to save the broken toy, he would pay at once.

He took of to his room, slamming the door behind him. He earned himself two billion from his brother, but he lost the chance of killing the bitch, and had let another one beat him up. Butch still couldn't understand where they had gone. He had searched the damn place several times. It didn't make any sense.

He lay down in the huge king size bed, tossing off all of his clothes. The door out to the porch was open, and the curtains were pulled away, letting the moonlight shine in on the floor. As he lay there staring at the lines, a thought hit him. Maybe they weren't at the junk yard at all. That had to be the only explanation. That girl had tricked him in to believing she had lived her whole life there, and didn't know who he was.

Of course she was lying! Not only did she cheat in their fight, but she was a sneaking liar too! That little minx, he snickered. But not any more. He knew her dirty little secret, and he was going to find her the next day. She was going to pay for what she had done to him.

Oh, revenge was going to be so sweet. Even sweeter than sweet. Like hell she could resist him. It had to be an act, all of it. Sneaky little bitch, but he wasn't going to fall for it. He was smarter than that.

Just the thought of wrapping his hands around her pretty little neck had him standing straight up. She was going to be so sorry. He was going to squeeze the life out of her, and he was going to enjoy her scared look, feel her body tremble, begging for her life. Groaning, he grabbed his limb, seducing himself. Payback was going to be a real bitch, and he was going to enjoy it, all of it. He was going to show her what happened to people who fucked with Butch Jojo.

Those lime green eyes. He could see them so clearly. She had a strong punch for a human, but she was so fragile. When he had tilted her chin up, he had felt a slight tremble in her body, seen a small red hue on her cheeks. Was she a virgin? He groaned. Just the thought was alluring. He didn't think he had ever done it with one before. Would she break? Scream?

Was the girl capable of moaning? He could practically see her eyes filled with lust, for him, stretched out, begging him for more. One hard movement, and he came. The orgasm hit so hard he felt dizzy. It had him change his mind. He wasn't just going to kill her straight away tomorrow. No, he was going to have her, one way or another. He was going to break her, again and again, then kill her when he got bored of it.

* * *

Hey, guys! This is just an idea that's been whirling around in my head for the last couple of days. Hope you enjoyed the read, and please leave a comment on your thoughts. Is it worth continuing on?


	2. Chapter 2

**Prince and Princess of Heart**

Boomer gave a low groan. Not only had Mojo pushed him harder around than normal – the maidens storming his room at five in the morning, apologizing him about how the boss of the house had ordered it – but the second his tired eyes had shut close, his brute of a brother just had to make a crashing party downstairs. He was just hoping for the love of every god ever, that Brick had not heard it. The last person he wanted to be aimed with wrath from, was his redheaded sibling.

Butch had always been an over the top fighter, a whore with the ladies and a total prick who didn't care for anyone but himself. But Brick; that was a total other story. Boomer wondered if his brother was even capable of feelings. When they were younger, he remembered Brick caring, even beating up some kids in high school – they were always picking on Boomer, hence he was five years younger than what was normal at that time – but something had changed.

The blond cared for both his brothers, but it was hard to help them or do anything when neither wanted it. Is it possible to aid someone who doesn't approve of it?

Another sigh was let out, before he stared down at the person in his hands. The second he had caught her out of his violent brothers hands, she was gone. Her eyes had shut down, like a robot, and she was staring blankly in to space. Had he been wrong? Was she even a person? Technology was quite advanced now a days, but seeing Butch had bought her off the Dograce, she had to be flesh and blood.

«Are you alright?» He asked, but she didn't seem to respond. Her eyes were such a soft blue, he felt himself draw a quick breath. Her bangs were cascading in synchronize with hair, making him place a hand on her cheek, softly caressing the smooth skin there. No make up. No fake skin softening conditioners. Long eyelashes. Light pink, filled lips. It was nothing like he had ever seen before, and his heart was set aflame.

Her eyes suddenly moved to meet his gaze, and Boomer felt his cheeks redden. He didn't know where he was; those beautiful, sky eyes. And then she moved, swiftly around, grabbing his arm, and twisting it up against his back. Like a dancer in front of an amazed crowd.

«Is it time to kill?» She asked. Her voice was monotone, and as it was there and gone, he couldn't really remember it. All that was left, was a shiver down his spine, and Boomer clenched his jaw. She was fast. Much faster and stronger than a normal human being.

«N-no,» he stuttered, and she released the grip immediately. Stumbling a couple steps, he turned toward her; eyes yet dead, unmoving. Could she be a robot, after all? Why was she difficult to understand? What had Dograce done with her? It had been some time since he had been there with his brother, and the horrific actions of both the crowd and participants had him never wanting to return there ever again. Ticking from a distant clock and a sudden overwhelming tiredness reminded him of the situation. Softly clearing his voice, Boomer came up to her with two quick steps.

«Eh, not to be pushy or any sort of thing like that, but we have to move up to my room. If my older brother, not the one who – the brunette,» he interrupted himself. Heck, why keep telling her Butch was going to kill her, that he had bought her like a slave? Like hell he could say something like that. «but another, we'll be in trouble. Not to mention, my father won't be pleased with this late night trouble. Besides,» the blond yawned. «I'm pretty sure I have to get up early, maybe three, four hours?» his eyes darted to the clock, but it didn't seem to affect her. The girl was standing still, like a statue. God, what had he ended up in? For a split second he felt like it would have been better to leave it to Butch, maybe even Brick.

Brick was good with big words; he knew how to enchant people and hold their attention for a huge amount of time without being boring. Butch was the bad boy; he knew what to say to capture anyone's lust, and get his way. Boomer was the sweet one; the prince on a white horse with romantic gestures and breathtaking moments. That was, if the lady was remotely on earth. This girl wasn't here. She wasn't getting any of his words, not showing any sign of understanding, other than violence. The only time he had seen her react, was if she engaged physical contact. However then the response wasn't quite as soft as he wanted.

Maybe it would have been better to leave her to Butch, end her misery. _Yet_ , he swallowed. He wanted her to be real. The boy wondered what her laugh sounded like, what her smile looked like. What was she interested in? What did she enjoy eat? Hobbies? Favor of animal? Drink, dance, sight?

He hadn't dared to look under her chin, being the gentleman he was. It was distracting enough to know she didn't have any clothes for him to forget to offer her some; but one quick glance was enough to leave him staring. He hadn't moved his look much, in fact just a couple of inches, and his eyes fell upon her collar. A leach was hooked on the front, whilst it had an odd, new look to it. It didn't look used much, and he could see red marks around her skin. God, it had to be too tight. How could she be so still, not uttering a word of discomfort? Every passing second in her presence had him more and more wondering about her. Pity, curiosity, anger; and some embarrassment for being quite useless and out of solutions.

Would she attack him if he tried to remove it? But then, how was he going to get her anywhere? Would she follow him if he just took it off? Somehow, he doubted it. If she was going to act like an emotionless doll. There had to be a reason for the collar, and he didn't like the thought of it, but he was going to abide her rules, however only the basic.

Any type of progress had been in vain, but as he took the black leather in his hand and like a breeze of a thug, she quickly followed close by. Not wanting to run out of luck, he rushed up stairs, making sure to not go to fast, so she could keep up. It didn't seem like a problem, and she managed to stick with his pace without problems.

Once reaching his room, and closing the door, he gave a huge sigh, feeling the cold sweat on the side of his forehead. If anyone had seen him.. The rumors wouldn't be pretty. Butch didn't care what others thought, and dared to push things further if asked, exaggerating everything. It was always over the top with his green brother. Brick was strict, puncturing any kind of unwanted and negative rumors about him. The blond didn't have the backbone to say anything against if asked, and thus avoided drama at all cost.

The blond was tired, yet again. His bones creaked under his weight. At the ruckus, he hadn't managed to even dress socks, only a t-shirt and pants. Releasing her leach, he prowled up to his drawer, pulled out the biggest, thickest sweater he could find and careful, but stern, grabbed around her chin. It wasn't hard, but he was determent to hold her in place if she would protest or jolt away.

«Your lips are blue, and I can see your bones clatter. It's admirable how you're managing to hide it on the out side, not even a slight tremble of the skin, but you'll get sick if this keeps up, and seeing I just bought you back from my brother, I don't want you to be ill. You will wear this, now rise your arms.» It was a long shot, he knew that, but he didn't want to wrestle her just for the piece of cloth to maybe be ruined, and get another hell bent banshee in hands to manage. Frankly, he didn't have the strength, nor patience to do so. To his utter bliss, she obeyed.

Hands went up in air, and he quickly pushed it down over her head, making the girl wriggle a little. For the first time, he saw her eyebrows move when her head came in display. They were pulled down, up, and around; not sure what to do about themselves. The girl was confused. Was it the fabric? Did it itch? He had been careful and picked one with baby lamb wool, which, wasn't suppose to itch at all. It was big. Maybe she didn't like it.

«I'm sorry if it's not to your liking, but I promise I'll buy you something more appropriate and convenient tomorrow,» he gave a tired sigh. The blond girl was back to her dead face, but something in her eyes sparkled. She didn't seem just as gone as before. Something had improved, he realized as the orbs wasn't staring into utter space, but had started focusing on him. Made him kind of shy, observed.

«You can take the bed to sleep on, and I'll take the sofa.» The boy gestured toward his king size bed with longer in eyes. What he wouldn't give to just be able to dive in there and sleep for three days straight. Making his way over, he threw the shirt over his head, leaving the pants on. It wasn't cold in the room, and he needed a shower when woken anyway. He could have made an excuse, didn't want to scare the girl or anything like that, but Boomer didn't feel like getting half naked in front of this girl, who had just twisted his arm in a Brick hand lock, asking for permission to kill him. Damn, if he was going to die in his sleep, it was with his pants on so his green brother couldn't tell the story at his funeral or make stupid jokes.

Throwing himself down on it, he groaned and felt his heavy eyes shut. The girl was standing very still, but he didn't care. She would get tired at one point, and then go to bed. It wasn't like she actually was a robot; the skin was just too soft. He could hear the steady beats of her heart, and his quickly joined the rhythm. It was calming, and a pleasant darkness surrounded him.

It felt like he had just closed his eyes when they snapped open, beating heart in his throat, his skin standing on end, threatening to rip itself off his bones. Someone was screaming bloody murder, and it appeared to be straight in his ear. A few disorienting seconds passed, the boy turning left, right, up and down to try to locate the horrendous noise, as his eyes found the source. His heart dropped ice cold to his stomach, and his body reacted before his groggy mind could begin to think.

Throwing himself forward, he tackled the blond girl; who was sitting on top of two of his maids, both bawling their eyes out. He didn't know how badly they were hurt, seeing she started resisting him upon contact. It was one of the oddest and scariest battles of his life time. The girl had an enormous brutal strength, just like Butch; but Bricks flexible and tactic movements, making him fight for his life. As they rolled around, he realized she wasn't trying to hit him, or kick him. She was doing her best to lock him with her own techniques. It wasn't like any martial art he had witnessed, and every half lock was a heart attack. He was sure she was going to break his arm, rip of his foot, choke him at any given moment, but somewhat he managed to keep up with her furious movements. Thank god he had two older brothers who improvised under surprise play-fights. Or reflex training as Brick used to call it. Butch used to refer to it as bonding time, using it as an excuse to beat the crap out of the youngest brother.

He was so caught up in their dance of death, that he didn't notice the people who entered his room. The only thing Boomer registered was that in one moment, she was twirling her legs around his arm, her hand coming up on his chin, ready to squeeze him unconscious. She wouldn't have managed so, seeing as he had her arm in a lock, and was about to twist it around. And then she was gone.

Gazing up, the blond swallowed. His mouth was dry, and somewhat, he felt the incoming wrath like a cannonball bullseyeing a fly. Brick was standing there, holding the blonde girl by her throat. She trashed around, until he gave one of his famous glare. For a split second she opposed him with a hard stare of her own, but years of authority won over pure force.

«Stop,» he said. It was low, short, and deadly. The girl froze in movement, and he could feel her stop breathing. Now he was sure she was human; eyes were huge, body trembling, and he could see tears in the corner of her irises; sure enough dried out years ago, but visible to him. Of course she was scared. He was about to shit himself, and he had lived with this man his whole life.

«Get your toys under control, or I will get ride of them,» the crimson eyes turned toward the blue ones, and Boomer nodded fast. The two maids were quivering by the door, not sure if fetching the young master was such a good idea. They were probably in shock, thinking it was an intruder trying to kill everyone. The redhead passed by them quick, dropping the blonde to the floor. Boomer was there, quick to catch her. When looking up, his brother was gone.

Brick must be feeling generous. Lately, he would just ruin any kind of fun for his brothers if it bothered him. As late as three days ago he had crushed Butch's car because the man was showing it off to the amazed girls; apparently, it had been too loud for the redhead. It was a miracle he hadn't killed the girl for disturbing his sleep; and the maids along with her. Yesterday just broken Butch's arm for killing over twenty guards, when he would usually send him off to the hospital for a week of murdering two. Oddly, Boomer wasn't sure if he was going to be relived, or nervous for the reason of his redheaded brothers change.

A tear fell down the girl's cheek, but she quickly recovered when he was gone. Boomer waved for the maids to go away, and they happily obligating, showing each other out the door.

«I'm sorry for my brother. He's rather grumpy in the morning,» Boomer chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. Something had changed, because the girl twitched, as if about to look at him, but then changed her mind the split second the command was sent out. Whatever she had thought, wasn't going to come out.

«Did you get any sleep?» he wondered, but she said nothing. The twitch was gone, and she was yet again dead. Boomer couldn't understand what was going on. She was clearly capable of showing horror, and she defended herself rather well. So what was making her this stiff? He couldn't imagine any happy emotion being the cause of such a shut out personality. What on earth had happened at the Dograce. Butch had brought home several of their projects, but never any this damaged.

«Well,» he muttered, pulling his hands back. She hadn't done anything with his touch this time, but that was probably because of his brother. The girl wasn't back on earth – or as back as she could get – and probably wasn't thinking about him. That might be why she wasn't responding; he just wasn't important nor the biggest threat in the house. «I'm going to take a shower,» he smiled and pushed off the floor, heading for the bathroom. He released her, now realizing how long he had been touching her without any violent reaction. Was it good? Bad? It was a shame he couldn't ask her directly. All the boys had their own bathroom; Butch being the cause of it. The brunette had always taken too much time to check himself out, and Brick loved his long, undisturbed showers. It had resulted in Mojo giving them each their own, to get some peace and quiet around.

Giving them what they wanted, had always been Mojo's way of handling them. It had been effective. Whenever they started shouting, disagreeing and making havoc, the Mojo had turned them toward something else, distracting them or solving the problem. He was rich, so why not?

He left the door open; if anyone else came in and the blonde attacked them, he wanted to be in place. No reason to disturb his brother further. Throwing the cloths in a basked in one corner, he stepped in to the shower, turning it on. It was instantly warm, and he felt his muscles melt. It was so wonderful. Rubbing his face, he turned his hair toward the shower head, fetching the soap from the metal shelf inside the shower. The sweat from the morning practice melted down his body, the new water cleaning his tired skin.

As his eyes came up, the man let out a short scream. It was more like a squint than a scream, but a rather girly one at that. His guest was standing on the outside, staring at him with her blue eyes. He filled his lounges twice before opening the shower slightly, just enough to let sound inside.

«What is it?» he asked, trying his best to smile as comforting as possible in this awkward situation. Her eyes darted around, and he turned his bottom away. God, this was embarrassing. What was she thinking? Why was she checking him out? Boomer felt a rush of blood to his face. Her eyes really were beautiful. A hand covered his private area in the best discreet way, the other resting on the shower door.

Softly, and slow, she rose a hand and felt on the small crack. Her eyes suddenly shone up, and he saw what he had longed for this short time. Her soul. Her hard mask was down; those hard, life like eyes and cool posture wasn't there. She was blinking, taking in everything. The smell, the moisture, the sight, feeling, and Boomer couldn't deny her it. His hair could wait a couple of hours. The worst part of his sweat was away, and he could live with it. Grabbing a towel from inside the shower – it was big enough to contain it without the texture getting wet – he stepped out, leaving the water on.

«All yours,» he smiled, and there it was. The little twitch. As if she heard what he said, and was about to say something, but voted against it. What he wouldn't give to be able to read her mind. To have some kind of clue what was going on inside of there. If only he had the power to read her mind.

Her eyes glanced fast at him before returning to the shower. It was too fast for a human, but he had seen it. Was she seeking permission? Such an innocent act; he waved a hand at it and smiled his warmest. She didn't give any sign of registering him, but stepped straight in to the shower. He was about to stop her, but voted against it. If she wanted to take a hot shower with clothes on, he wasn't going to stop her. Boomer was ready to spoil her rotten if that's what it took for him to be able to see the sheer, real bliss in her eyes again. It wasn't like those screaming girls when they got houses, cars and jewelry from their lover. This was genuine. She was real.

He stood there a couple minutes, staring at her calm figure, eyes closed, nose pointing at the roof, as the water soaked her body. It didn't bother her. She was just living it, living the moment. She was enjoying herself, and that was good enough for him. As the t-shirt clung to her well trained body, he felt a red hue creep up on his cheeks.

Dressing, he shaved, fixed his hair, and took another glance at her. She was still standing there, but there was something at the corner of her lip. A small twirl. His heart skipped a beat. Such a gentle smile. A quick glance at the clock, he realized he had to get downstairs if he was going to get any food before the long day. Which reminded him, he needed to ask the maidens to leave some food up there. He didn't know when she had last eaten, but she was very thin.

Something very rare came in vision when he entered the kitchen. Butch was up, laughing and flirting with the maidens, eating his bacon and toast.

«Boom! My man!» He cheered between bites of egg and butter. It was clear he had gotten his payment.

«How is little miss sunshine? Heard she managed to get a hold of two of the maidens,» the brunette smirked, making Boomer cold sweat. Would Mojo let him have her if he knew what had happened? He was going to find out, but the blond would like to do some damage control before that time.

«She's in the shower at this moment. I, uh,» he said before his brother could make any gross comments about it. «Things happened very quick yesterday,»

«Hell no. I'm not taking her back. If you don't want her, take her down to the Dograce or drop her off at NeedWant. Hell, even bury her in the back,» the man shrugged. Boomer felt his face drain of color. Some of the maidens shifted unpleasant, but the smile was glued to their face. It was what they were paid to do.

«No! Butch, no. No. That's not what I was going to say. I have no intention of returning her back to that place, nor kill her off like an animal.»

«But she kind of is an animal. I bought her off of the Dograce, making her growing up like one,» Butch nodded to himself, as if it was a monolog, but every argument Boomer was making, had another meaning in the brunette's head.

«Stick to the subject,» Boomer muttered. He wanted to punch his brother. Butch was very good at pushing buttons, and he loved bothering his little brother. Always seeing how far he could go before the blond would break down. Over the years, Boomer had gotten very good at ignoring and counter every attack from the green man. Brick had been great help in the beginning, teaching him some techniques and giving him small tips to how to avoid unpleasant encounter.

«Things got pretty hasty last night, and I never really got to ask you; who is she really? I know you bought her off the Dograce, but do you have any info on her?»

«What, she wont tell you herself?» the man snickered.

«Butch,» Boomer said, his tired voice filling the dining hall. One of the maids came with a plate to him, and he flashed her a small smile in gratitude. He quickly pulled two pieces of bread to him, buttering them and placing at least three layers of topping. The day must be a very special one, because his brother wasn't making a snarky comment, but rather being helpful.

«Her name is Bubbles,» Butch said. The joking voice was still there, just less obvious. To give him any information was an improvement, and the blond felt lucky. Butch had stood up on the right side of the bed that was for sure. On his bad days, he could be worse than a screeching Morbucks. Needless to say, it was never a pretty sight.

«Calhou didn't say anything else, and I didn't ask. Go to the Dograce and ask. If he's still there. Two billion is apparently a lot to normal people,» the man shrugged. Boomer knew it was much money, more than anyone ever would have, but his brother wasn't so bright with numbers. He knew their order, but didn't care for their value.

«Why are you up so early, anyway?» Boomer asked, taking a bite of the delicious food. His stomach was grateful for something else to hammer on than his intestinal, and the boy threw in a bite of an apple here and there. Butch stopped eating, as if just now realizing what he was doing. His eyes shifted softly, before his face turned murderous. Boomer wished he had never asked. Poor bastard who was his brother's destination.

«I have a pretty little neck to break,» the man stabbed a piece of bacon, and threw it in his mouth, swallowing it whole. The blond felt sorry for whomever was at his brother's wrath. When modes like these came around, everyone that knew the green Ruff avoided him like the plague to save themselves.

«Butch,» a dark voice greeted, and Boomer stiffened in his chair. He had flashback from this morning as Brick sat down, a couple seats away from them. They had been sitting beside each other in the past, almost inseparable. Brick had turned cold, and Butch was distant, trying to laugh off everything as if life in itself was an ending joke. It had been going on for years, and Boomer didn't know if it was going to ever see the light of the tunnel.

«Good morning, Brick,» Boomer said, earning a cold shoulder. The man was busy buttering his toast. Or so it seemed.

«Huaawh?» Butch said, mouth full of his breakfast.

«How come 2 billion disappeared from your bank account yesterday?» Blond staring at red, who's eyes were at the table, the green one turned his raging to the blond one. The death stare was overwhelming, making him unwantedly turn his head and meet them. He was stunned.

«I-I-I-» he stuttered.

«She's dead,» Butch managed to say after swallowing half choking on his food.

«I paid!» Boomer retaliated. He had seen the action going through, so everything should be in it's right order.

«Liar!» Butch rose from his chair, ready to tackle his brother. It would be easy to dodge, seeing he was the faster of them, but their older brother spoke up, preventing the fight from breaking out.

«That is beyond the point, Butch. Now answer me. How come 2 billion disappeared from your bank account yesterday?» The green one sat down, staring at his hands. Boomer could hear his brother swallow his pride.

«I bought something at the Dograce.»

«Something?» Brick turned his head, staring angrily at his brother. Butch crossed his arms over his chest. It almost had the blond one laugh; what was he, 5? It almost felt like old times, when the leader would scold the brute for heading in to battle, head first without giving it as much as one bit of thought or consideration.

«It might have been someone. I was going to kill her off,» he defended himself with. «But Boomer insisted on buying her, and twice the price isn't such a bad sale. Even you can't argue with a hundred percent profit.»

«Fine,» Brick said. And that was that. He didn't say anything else, and left just half a minute later. Butch seemed insulted for something, and his mood was most foul when he stormed out, leaving the blond to eat by himself.

However, his father entered, making him swallow the last bit of food. He wore the most expensive dress; nothing else would do for the rich man. Mojo Jojo was wealthy beyond belief, and the man stood straight. His dark hair framed his strong and majestic features. No one could understand where his intelligence had come from, and the man quickly grew in power throughout his years. Every time Boomer met someone from Mojo's past, he came closer to understanding just how much influence his father had, and how great he is.

«Make haste; we have a lot of things to do today, and a lot of places to go. If you haven't eaten your breakfast just yet, it's too late. We'll pick up something on the way.»

«Yes, father,» Boomer muttered, rising from his seat. He just wished he wouldn't be gone for too long. He needed to be with Bubbles, the new girl in his life.

* * *

The blonde wasn't sure if she was made or born. From what her five year old head could comprehend, living things were born, often with a mother and father. She had none, and couldn't remember anything but the dark dungeon. Someone had placed her there, was feeding her something odd, green and fuzzy. She didn't know if it was suppose to taste bad, or good. She had never had anything else. At least, not that she could recall. It was moist, and cold, leaving a cool layer on her skin to all times. She didn't know why, but her eyes were leaking all the time. The body would tremble and it made breathing hard. Something deep inside her felt cold, stiff and empty. It felt like she had lost something, misplaced it, or maybe was lost herself. There was something she needed, but couldn't understand what. After several light passing's, she came to stop the waterfall. At the sight of her salty water, they would lash out at her, screaming something about pulling something together and stop being such a fucking wuss. Not that she knew what it meant; but if felt really painful.

Counting the light and dark, she somewhat managed to keep a sense of time. As her six hundred and fifty-seven day hit, they let her out of her prison for the first time. The girl had grown out of her clothes, not sure if they were suppose to be like that. They were tight, itching at her skin.

«Oh, they look painfully small on you,» a voice spoke nearby. It wasn't to her left, nor her right. There wasn't anything else to do but stare up, and the light was sharper so she used a couple of seconds before doing so. The light was bright, and burning in her eyes. A hand fell over her vision, blocking the worst out. It didn't help with the view, however.

«Remove the cloths,» it said, whirling a huge amount of applause. Few O'ed, others bu'ed, but the response was mostly positive. Even though it had been a hard time trying to understand words and their meanings, she could pick up on positive and negative loaded tones. The blond stared down at herself. It did make sense. It wasn't like it was covering anything, and it was just stiffening her movements. Her hands were shaking unknowingly as they went to remove the clothing. The cool air to her skin felt refreshing; the rags had been dirty, covered in years of shit and filth.

«Isn't she lovely?» the voice boomed, making everyone voice their opinion. «We're calling her Bubbles, because she has such a free spirit.» Laughter boomed throughout the walls. Used to silence and herself, it made her ears ring from the huge noise. Was the voice referring to her? Was her name Bubbles? It didn't sound too bad. Somehow, she liked it. If anything about this was right, it was that given name. A twitch of her corners had the crowd woozy.

«Already a natural,» happily advertised the voice. «And in this corner, two hundred pounds of pure muscles, the crimson painter.» On the other side, the blond noticed a tall man, dressed in a white spandex, face covered with a fox mask. The current her didn't know what it was suppose to look like, and at first she thought his actual face looked like that. She wasn't sure what to think, being the first time seeing anything like it before.

«Hey, she's just a kid.» the dark voice complained.

«Are you giving up?» came the mocking reply from the top, and she could hear his growl, a shift in his muscles in his throat. In fact, it was more like she felt the vibration of the soundless motion.

«Hell no, let's do this.» He moved an axe back and forth in his hand. The blond wanted to know what it was, and the purpose of it; but she had no way of asking. How was she suppose to ask? The words didn't seem to come to her. Her lips felt heavy and clumsy as she tried to mimic some of the words in a soft whisper. She didn't like it.

More sound, cheering, and the person dashed toward her. She didn't know what to do, but felt somewhat startled. A step back didn't help as the huge body came over hers, crushing her to the ground.

«What the hell? She's such a weakling. Easy cash,» the motionless face laughed. Was she going to struggle? Everything was so confusing. The sharp light was poking at her eyes like needles, and the dust whirled around them. It wasn't like the hard floor in her cell. It was crunched up, mashed to powder. Soft, she thought. It felt good to lie there. The sand was nothing like her stone cold floor in her little, frosty box.

«Sorry, Missy, it's nothing personal,» he said, and swing the axe down on her. It came in contact with her skin, and dug into her chest. The pain was immediate. A howl of shock, pain and horror escaped her lips and she stared wide eyed at the stranger. What was he doing? Why was he hurting her? Blood leaked out. Her screech was high pitched and the sudden vibration cut her voice half way through.

«What the hell,» the man muttered. He didn't seem bothered with her extreme reaction. «I thought it would split you in two, you're so small. Looks like you're a rather tough one.» Pulling it out in one, dreadful movement, the blond came to life and placed a shaking hand on his grip, and one on top of her fresh bleeding wound. The crimson liquid streamed over her naked skin, painting her. His grip quickly shifted as she tried to struggle out, grabbing around her neck. Squeezing, she gasped.

She couldn't breathe, and her feet started to kick around. He was heavy, and as he pushed down and she up, she felt a rib bone crack under the force. Her second hand flew to his grip, trying to loosen on it. It was horrible; she wanted to breathe again. Her nails clawed at his skin, tearing it apart. He jumped at her strong fingers and as his chocking grip loosened, she pushed a hand between her soar pipes and his strong palm.

«Just die already,» he groaned, obviously displeased with his open wound. The axe came up in the air, and her blue eyes widened. She was scared; of what was a mystery, but something dark in her fought his actions. He was killing her, and thought she had nothing to live for, something inside of her wouldn't let her roll over and take it. She didn't want to return back to her cage, and maybe she didn't have to if she beat him. If she could get away, she could try climbing the wall and get out of there.

As it came swinging down, her eyes froze over and her mind went blank. She wasn't thinking, just moving out of reaction. Grabbing a hold of his hand, she twisted it off her neck and blocked the incoming iron. She could clearly see everything, it broke his skin, flesh and went through his bone. It stopped as it almost came all the way through. His body went from strong, relaxed and in control, to shaking.

His scream roared around in the small fighting circle, and mixed with the cheering from the cloud. Some sounded surprised, others laughed, some even complained. Her attacker was in pain, bleeding himself. The voice over the speakers were praising her, and the watching eyes darted back and forth. There were so many mixed feelings that the blond didn't feel like there was space for her own; yet it was there. A pinch of satisfaction.

She had made him hurt like he had hurt her. And boy did it feel good. He scrambled away from her, but the blond was suddenly hot on his trail, picking up the dirty tool he had dropped. It didn't take long for them to hit a wall, and she flung the axe at him, but missed as he twirled around with extreme haste. His healthy hand grabbed the handle, and he kicked her stomach. Having no experience with such a movement, she went flying across the arena and dented the brick wall on the other side. The breath was knocked out of her lounges, and dark spots danced in front of her vision. Blood was throbbing in her ears, making it hard to hear. She swayed from left to right, eyes glaring up at the masked man. He was yelling something about his hand, how they were obligated to fix it after his win. The voice from above promised as soon as he won.

They had doomed already; no one was expecting her to win. She didn't see how she could with the difference in size, and somewhat it didn't feel fair. From what she could tell, they were nothing alike.

Her breath was rapidly entering and leaving her lounges as she regained herself, seeing the man charging her way. Like a bloodhound on the trail, he took a step back before entering her zone, as if knowing she was going to step forward and try to kick him in the torso, like he had done her. She missed by a mile, and the axe came swishing down, tearing her right shoulder in half. The pain was enough to knock her out, but knowing that it would cost her her life, she grabbed the handle with both her hands, and moved to kick with both her knees. She hit center of his chest, feeling the bones crack under the pressure. He was pushed back, and her back hit the wall.

The feeling of her feet shaking, seeing the blood pouring down her body, she felt faint. Darkness surrounded her and as her knees hit the soft, soothing sand, her vision had gone blank. The last thing she could think, was that she had done her best, but lost.

The feeling of waking up was the last thing she thought was going to happen. The known ceiling was staring down at her, and for a split second she wanted to be dead. The hard bricks around her was suffocating, and the small amount of freedom she had tasted was better than her current position. It would have been better to give up and just taken the axe to the head. New found tears swelled up in her eyes, and the sniff made her body hurt. Her wounds were open, and started bleeding again when she moved. Terrified of what was coming next, she just lay there; feeling sorry for herself. What had happened? Was she really dead and this was her eternal suffering for being a nothing?

She had just earned her name too, and now it was all over. A creaking from a swung door caught her attention, and she shifted to stare at the bars at the end of the tunnel. A light touched the opening, but didn't reach out to her. She was hiding away in the shadows, her new found glaring face in place.

«Congratulations, my little Bubbles. It seems your kick stopped the mans heart from beating. It was rather disappointing, but he's dead and that makes you the winner.» It was the thundering voice from above. She stared at the fat, grinning man; disliking him already. She had seen him in the background some times when they had given her food, or come around to poke at her.

He threw a pack of something in the cracks. It wasn't big, and she carefully moved her hand to pull it toward her. It was hurting like nothing before, and it didn't feel like moving was going to help her; but she had to know what this was. It was her first time receiving something new. It was usually her food, a poking iron or harsh laughter.

«I have no idea how you survived an axe piercing half of your right lounge in two, but congratulations my dare. You've earned this.» He didn't stay around to see her reaction to the package. He had a Dograce to run.

She stared at the open package. It wasn't sealed, but reminded her of her little box. One exit, walls to keep things inside. Her hand slithered inside, carefully feeling it's way toward the end. It was light, so she didn't expect to find anything big. What she was expecting was beyond her, but for every centimeter she crawled toward the end, her insides stung. It might be another joke; a cruel one.

Her fingers hit something soft, and thought. Carefully feeling around it, she grabbed a hold and pulled it out. The dim light from the touches outside was enough for her to see the round object in her hands.

Opening her eyes and staring at the flowing, incoming water, her right hand landed on the collar at the base of her neck. It was rough, and rather tight; but she didn't dare adjust it. It would only make bad worse. She had done the mistake before. A lot of time had passed sins she had stepped in to the warm, new shower. It was something new; she had never encountered water like this before. Not as hot, clean and refreshing. It felt odd, and good on her skin. As if it was burning, but like a phoenix being reborn in the flames. The water kept flowing, and she kept taking it all in.

The soft moving of the door had her turn her head around, eyes staring over her shoulder. The girl was hoping for the blond man; he was the gentles one thus far, and showing her such a delight feeling was enough for her to feel somewhat comfortable in his presence. He had also saved her from the green one; whom had tried to kill her. She knew when someone was trying to go in for the kill. It had been her only livestock so far.

It was neither; the redhead from this morning stood in the doorway. Eyes stared at her, and he knew she could see him. It had been years sins she had felt the kind of terror he emitted, and the feeling of helplessness from the morning returned to her mind. Unsure of what do to, the door came up and she stepped out. Her feed slightly slipped on the floor, making her ridicule herself a couple of seconds before her eyes returned to his; waiting.

Something conflicting shuddered in his eyes before the man entered the bathroom and walked up to her. Bubbles stood still, the twitch of her jaw the only indication of her discomfort around him. As he came closer with the determent look, she was sure he was going to finish the job. After experiencing such a comforting and warm shower, the blonde didn't mind dying. It was short and brief, but so worth all the wait in her little cage. If she was going to die, the experience was worth it. All of it.

He stepped right past her and turned the shower off. Their shoulders were parallel and he turned his head slightly her way, the mist around them twirling with his sharp movements. Even the elements bent around him.

«I thought my brother was being a moron and left the shower running.» She didn't say anything and stared straight ahead; his cold stare was boring into her side. Oh, it was perfectly clear that she could see him in her peripheral view, but the one thing she had relied on her whole life – and learned so painfully – was staring quietly straight ahead at absolutely nothing. It was the most effective way of getting out of a sticky situation.

«Not much of a talker, are you,» he said, turning her way. She kept her mouth shut, like she had with the blond and brunette. No reason earning another slap for nothing, or even something worse. He took a deep breath before letting it out, eyes wandering up and down. Many had done so up through the years, and she felt the insides twitch. When the blond had taken her there, she knew it was too good to be true. Conscience was beating at her, screaming 'I told you so' all over again. There was no way anyone would be that kind at the bottom of their heart. Everyone had motive. Everyone.

«Come on. Let's get you out of those clothes before you catch a cold,» the redhead muttered and grabbed the end of the shirt, pulling it upwards. She resisted, pulling it down. With the raw power of tugging, she turned her head and stared him straight in the eyes. A low hiss escaped her lips, like she had done the morning.

Once in the cage, she had gotten a visit from a legless animal. It was slithering along the ground, eyes staring in a none stop movement. At her movements, it had hissed at her; and she had understood it as a warning. Proving her right, it had moved forward with lightning speed afterward, baring it's teeth at her. She had caught it mid hair and ripped the head off it's body. The animal had warned her before attacking; and when she had not backed down, it had gone in for the kill.

The man had a glimpse in the corners of his eyes, as if he was expecting it and somewhat it was amusing; just as the morning, he was standing on his own. The weight of his presence was enough to make her let go of the t-shirt, and it was off her skin in a flash. He was quite agile. Turning her face away, not wanting to know what was coming next or see the look on his face, she turned back to staring out in the space of nothing.

He rustled beside her, a sudden movement ruffling her body had her jump. It didn't show on the outside, but her heart was beating faster than normal. It didn't feel like anything she had encountered before. The touch was soft, fluffy. Staring down at her sides, she realized it was another piece of fabric. This one was absorbing the water left on her skin, making the air appear warmer. The redhead commanded her to lift her arms, and he dried. It sent shivers of tickle around her body, but she resisted the urge of shaking him off. It was nice. Her hair was tangling all over the place as he did so with her head. A soft giggle almost escaped her lips, but she managed to suppress it the last second.

«What's your name?» the redhead asked, lifting the towel.

«Bubbles,» she answered without thinking. It had only taken him a few minutes, but she had already opened enough up to him to actually speak. Her voice sounded odd in her ears. He didn't seem faced by it, and nodded as he dropped the towel and turned to leave the bathroom. There wasn't any indication of a command, but her feet followed his soft steps. He pulled out another t-shirt from the cabinet and turned to her. His mouth opened, but she rose her arms over her head. It was like with the blond one. The eyebrows danced a little around themselves before coming to a halt, and he pulled it down.

«Are you hungry, Bubbles?» he asked. Not sure what to do, she kept quiet. For the last hour, she had knotted the muscles in her stomach to keep it from growling, and so far it had been a success. Was this the moment he was going to turn around and slap her across the face of she said yes? Showing weakness was out of the question. Shaking her head, she dazed out into space again.

«Liar,» he said, crossing his arms over his chest. The movement had her flinching. It was something the torturers back at the Dograce did before starting their session. He was giving her an ultimatum, indicating he knew she was lying. Quickly nodding once with her head, she stared down at the floor, hiding her horrified look under her bangs.

«There we go,» he said, more to himself than anything. «Stay here, I'll be right back,» he muttered while passing her. She stood still, not daring to move any muscles. A clock on the wall ticked and she counted the ticks. It was soothing, gave her something to do while standing there. Her back was toward the bathroom, the bed was on her right, and the sofa on her left. At the end of the room in the front was a door leading out to a balcony. She could see the beautiful sky in the distance, surrounded by white, puffy clouds. Straight before hitting three digits in her counting, the door went up and she could smell him. It was strong, like chilly, but not enough for it to rip her nose off.

«I didn't know what you wanted, so I just took some of everything.» walking past her and past the bed on the right, he placed it on a table. It was filled with pieces and layers of paper. Holding the tray in one hand, he scoffed everything off and on the floor with the other.

«Enjoy,» he gestured before turning to leave. Before he passed her, he snapped his finger once in front of her face, snapping her back to reality with a harsh click. «Eat,» he said eyes piercing hers, before leaving the room; his eyes never turned to look back as the door shut close.

The blond one was going to be so angry when he returned to find the mess. She was going to be punished. Feet prowling toward the table, she stared at the wide area hit. It wasn't a pretty sight and would probably take all day to sort. The food on the tray had her staring. There was so many colors. She was used to the green, white one. Was it even food? The smell hit her nose, making her stomach growl loud enough for a red hue to touch her cheeks. Wiping it off, she quickly sat down on the chair and took it in. Warm and cold, bitter, hot and salty, some soft others hard. Touching a square piece of hard whet, she saw the melted butter. It reminded her of seeping, fresh drool. Lifting it to her mouth, she carefully took a bite. Maybe her death was going to be by poison? Surprise there, Dograce had already tried that, and failed.

It melted in her mouth. Crunchy pieces of deliciousness disappeared down her gape of the Kraken before she went over to the next one. It was white and soft, and she took a bite; revealing a yellow inside. The white didn't have much taste, but was nothing like the food at Dograce. It went down the hatch, and she moved on; working every piece of food. Green small balls of sweetness; her first time experiencing it. It was so good she forgot to chew some and it disappeared before she could think about it. A yellow, soft slice was stuffed between her teeth, soft and tender. It was happiness in her mouth. Some red, soft food reminded her of every person she had bit. Was it human? Didn't taste half bad.

She worked her way through every piece of food, and just as she finished of the last piece, the door opened. Expecting the redhead, she turned to greet him. It was the least she could do; acknowledge his acts of kindness. Expect it wasn't the man, but the blond one. His eyes widened as their orbs met, and the second she saw the blue, soft ones and not red, strong ones, she rose from the seat and stared to the side. She needed to apologize for the mess, her intrusion, the water he had allowed her to have. After all the nice things at once, she didn't want to be punished. For a second between the bites, she had forgotten who she was and what her duty was. She wasn't human; she was merely a beast, there to serve.

«I see you've gotten some food, that's good. The meetings took longer than I expected, the good news is that I don't have anything in a few days. Mojo is giving me the days off considering the hash work these past days.» He muttered tiredly as he threw the tie across the room, grinning pleased with himself. Kicking the shoes around, he loosened the shirt as it hit the floor and fell on the bed.

«Sorry about this, but I have to take a nap or I'll be ruined. You're free to join me,» he muttered, gesturing at the open space. Bubbles glanced at the form, the skin at his back softly shifting. Her insides were fighting itself; was she going to say something? Apologize before he got around to get angry at her. The best thing would be to ignore the mess and pretend she didn't know about it, it would save her the most. On the other side, he had been so good to her it didn't feel right leaving him to himself like that. Even though the redheaded one had done it, she was hundred and twenty percent sure she was going to be blamed, and the punishment was probably equally as bad as the perks had been good. At the short comfort, she fared it. Going back to the daily torture and fights. Somewhat, the girl would rather die.

As she had made up her mind to say something, and parted her lips, she heard the soft snoring from the form. It had only been about two minutes, and he was already fast asleep. Eyes darting to the mess on the floor, she moved over and placed the tray on the floor. Moving on on the papers, it didn't take her long to realize there wasn't much she could do. She didn't recognize or understand any of the things on them, and decided just to put it back on the table. If remembering correctly, it had already been a little messy. Hopefully he wouldn't get too angry. The outcome was possible, and she was ready for to take the consequences of it.

Picking the tray up from the floor, she stood for a couple of minutes. Where would she leave it? It couldn't be lying around, then the redheaded one would have placed it there in the first place. From the quick glance around downstairs, she hadn't seen anything like it. Would they be angry if she left the room? Neither boys – the redhead or the blond – seemed to want her outside.

Making it a split second decision, she strolled toward the door and carefully opened it. She didn't want the blond one to wake up, nor catch the attention of the redhead. If she wasn't caught, it would be alright, wouldn't it? Peaking outside, she didn't see anyone there. She was quite good at sneaking, being light on the toes. Quickly finding the stairs, she glanced down to see if anyone were in sight. The empty hall invited her in, and she took one step at a time, making sure not to make any sound. She was very careful to look up ahead so she wouldn't bump in to someone on surprise. Half way down the hall, she saw a movement coming around the corner. Her reflexes were lightning fast she hid behind a statue to her left. The footsteps approached, and judging from the way of the move and shortness of the steps, she guessed it was one of the maids. As they came closer, she was careful to check the hallway, then sneak around the statue as the maid passed.

The woman seemed to stop and glance behind a slight of a second, before continuing her stroll. Picking up her pace, she bolted past half open doors, glancing in to look for something that would match her objects in hand. Almost giving up hope and coming to a panic, she found it. A bright room with benches, cabinets and tools. She recognized one of the plates. Quickly she darted in, left the tray there and bolted out. She hurried along the way, up the stairs and into the room. Her heart was in her throat, scared of being caught. As her heartbeats calmed, the door flew open in a soundless motion, and two, bright red eyes glared down at her.

Bubbles pulled back. It was too good to be true; he had seen her and was now angry.

«What were you doing downstairs?» he growled without sound, glancing over at his brother. It was weird; from the morning she didn't think he cared the slightest and was ready to kill both of them in a wimps, and here he was being careful not to wake his brother. Not knowing the names of the equipments, she motioned the tray and plates.

«You should have left them here, someone would have come to take them. You're not allowed outside of this room, what if someone found you?» he hissed.

«I-» she stuttered before closing her mouth. Here it came. He was going to throw her out or deliver her back to the Dograce. She had royally screwed up. His eyes were thundering with rage and she felt his aura choke her. It was hard to understand why he was so angry, but rules were rules. She out of everyone had learned the hard way too many times what that meant. Closing her eyes, she lowered her head and waited for it. A hand was placed on her head, and he softly patted her two times before removing the hand.

«Be more careful. I think I'm the only one who saw you. No more wandering around,» the redhead whispered. «Okey?» She nodded her head, not daring to look up.

«Now get in bed. I'm sure Boomer will sleep until tomorrow, and you could need the sleep too.» Bubbles glanced at the blond and then back at the redhead. «Get to bed, Bubbles.» he said, leaving her there to herself and her thoughts.

The word had turned up side down, and she wasn't sure what to do any more. The man that kept his affection from his brothers; judging from the cold stare the morning, was rather calm about the situation. She wasn't being punished, they didn't use her for fighting. The water was hot, the meal was great, and all she did so far was break their rules. Her head was starting to hurt from the change. It was too much, too fast. Bed. He had told her to get to bed. In bed with the blond. And he had invited her earlier on.

It was the least she could do, the girl figured as she snuck around and lay down in the huge bed. It was a lot softer than the floor she had slept on previously, which had been an improvement from her cage. This really was too much too fast; her brain had problems keeping up. Were this a new form of torture, confusing her this far? She was sure things were going to hit the fan pretty soon.

The man in bed moved, shuffling around a little before his hands locked her in a tight embrace. Bubbles' muscles twitched. The only time someone touched, was in a death match. They were suppose to tear each other apart, not ruffle her with towels, pat her head or embrace her with a none lethal body contact. Her head was spinning. What was this? What were they up to? She didn't understand. Her brain couldn't understand. Everything was just confusing. Another hue crept up into her cheeks and she didn't dare move. Her heart threatened to jump out of her chest, and she wasn't sure if she could manage like this. What was happening? She didn't understand. Bubbles' world wasn't green and white anymore.

* * *

Thank you for reading Chapter 2. Until next time.


	3. Chapter 3

**Emperor and Empress of Diamond**

After the little run in with the tiny, blond female, Brick was retiring back into his room. He had been running back and fourth home, switching between papers and computers; keeping things in order and getting a heads up on the incoming meeting. It was critical for it to go well, and just the thought of it going slightly wrong was bothering him. Everything needed to be perfect so Mojo could see that he was doing his best, taking this seriously.

The male paced from the bathroom and back to his bed, to the desk to look over files, and into the shelf to glance at the titles. Nothing if it mattered, he was so far gone in his train of thoughts that it was merely an energetic way of displaying what was going on. It didn't help him much or any other viewers, but it somewhat kept his ideas sharp and straight on point.

Reaching the bathroom for the fifth time, if not more, he turned to the mirror to stare at himself. High cheekbones, a pointy chin, his eyes were glaring and the brows pulled down. The ends of his mouth were slightly coated with a sprinkle of anger. Oh, brother, the thoughts clouded over as he rubbed his tired face. When was the last time he had slept? He didn't remember, but probably days ago.

Pulling the shirt over his head, he dropped the pants and boxers, before stepping in to the shower. A few seconds passed as he stood there, naked. Brick's skin was flawless, but for a scar on his right hand. It went from the wrist and up, like a claw. Every time something touched it, he could feel a jolt of pain, as if it was still an open gash.

When he had seen the blonde the morning, he didn't know what to do but let her go. Everything about her screamed familiar, memories he had wanted to bury with anger and pain. Taste of betrayal got stuck on his tongue, and he turned the shower on, turning the heater all the way down. Had it been anyone else, they would scream from the ice cold shock, but not him. His skin was always on fire, making the water pleasant to him. Groaning, he pulled the head under the water and turned more. It wouldn't budge, but he wanted it colder. He wanted to feel the cold, like he had once. Just once.

Taking a step out, he felt ashamed for the weakness of his mind. He didn't want to think about it; he wanted it forgotten and gone, but whenever he allowed himself some rest and put his guard down, it was there. Clear as day, as if it just happened. The scream, it was horrible, tearing, ripping, pulling him apart. How could such a tiny scream be so powerful, so heartbreaking? It was straight upon him, the memories, the sounds, tastes, the feelings. Brick couldn't take it.

Falling to the floor, he gripped his head. He needed it to stop; it was too much to experience it again. For the love of god; it was going to rip him apart. Rapid breath, hard to breath, heart beating, he saw it, he was powerless, couldn't do anything about it-

And a hand was there to pull him back, pulling him off the floor, staring him in the eyes and holding him down on the earth. Tired body, the gratitude almost escaped his lips as he saw who it was, and silenced himself. Pulling out of the strong grip, he hissed.

«What the hell do you want?» his voice was capable of freezing salt water, but the man didn't seem faced by it. If anything, it had him relax.

«You were screaming again, Brick,» the voice softly spoke, a hand reaching out to pat his shoulder, but he slapped it away.

«The room is soundproof,» he growled. It was rare for him to loose his calm, but this was the only person in the whole world he couldn't stand being around for even a second. «And you're the last one to care for my well being.»

«It's not true-» he protested, those sad eyes reminded him of a lost puppy. Good, he was going to kick it to the moon.

«I wouldn't be in this situation had it not been for you, and you know it damn well.» It looked like the man was going to say something in protest before letting it go. «That's what I thought. Get the fuck out of my room.»

«Brick-»

«Get the fuck out of my room, Blaster,» the redhead roared, fists risen in a threatening way. The brunette sighed as he retreated out the door, glancing one last time at his brother before disappearing. Waddling around himself in the loose sweatpants, the redhead cursed loud, finding something he could break. The closest thing at hand was a lamp, red and plain in pattern before it went flying and crashed into a thousand pieces.

Somewhat, seeing the blonde reminded him of the past, and he felt overprotective of her. He wasn't going to let it happen again. Growling stomach caught his attention, and he was reluctant of going downstairs in case the brunette was still there. Seeing him so soon was going to be world war; blood, explosions, flying pigs.

Voting back and forth, his youngest brother was rarely home for long, mostly because of Brick. Blaster was out there in the world, while he kept home, occupied with work. Even at dinners, they rarely came to the same ones. Mojo was making sure of that, and Brick held him to it.

Sneaking out the door, feeling like a little turd, he quickly went out and strolled down the hallway. In any case he could just call the maids and have them do it, but the redhead wanted to do things himself. He was insane, not handicapped A blur of yellow twirled around the corner, and Brick felt his heart skip a beat. It was like seeing the past, but in a different color.

Terrified, expecting, with the flutter of butterfly wings at his heart, he stormed after, and in his brothers room. The door didn't make a sound as he swung it up, eyes glaring at the small figure. Her expression was quite blank, but he saw the panic behind those eyes. She was scared he would punish her for breaking the rule, leaving the room.

«What were you doing downstairs?» he growled without sound, glancing over at his brother. The moron was the definition of lights out, snoring softly to himself on the stomach. He was careful to keep the voice down to not wake the blond. He didn't want his brother to know what he had done with his Dogracer. Impatient he waved with his hands at her to make her snap out of her routinized space travel. Mimicking holding a tray and a plate, he understood. She was delivering down at the kitchen. It was good she didn't call the maid, but it didn't let her off the hook.

«You should have left them here, someone would have come to take them. You're not allowed outside of this room, what if someone found you?» he hissed, feeling the overprotectiveness in his heart taking over. He was longing to say her name, not Bubbles' name, but the past one. What if someone had seen her? What if Mojo had seen her?

«I-» she stuttered before closing her mouth. He was furious, scared for the life she wasn't aware of hung in such a tiny, fragile string. Closing her eyes, she lowered her head and waited for it. There was no way he could be angry with her, not like this. Not her. A hand was placed on her head, and he softly patted her two times before removing the hand.

«Be more careful. I think I'm the only one who saw you. No more wandering around,» the redhead whispered. «Okey?» A finger under her chin lifted it, and the blonde let him. She nodded her head, not daring to look up.

«Now get in bed. I'm sure Boomer will sleep until tomorrow, and you could need the sleep too.» Bubbles glanced at the blond and then back at the redhead. «Get to bed, Bubbles.» he said, the whisper softer than it had been in years, before exiting the room. There was no way he could eat with his upset stomach, so he went back to his room, threw the clothes off and dove into bed. Energy was low, hunger was no where in sight, so maybe he would sleep restless, canceling out any incoming dream.

The red eyes darted across the dim room, and he listened to his own breaths. Such a long day. Butch had bought a girl off the Dograce, placing him in a difficult situation. No matter how he had looked at the blonde, she looked just like the one he had bought all those years ago. Sure, the hair was in a different style, and she had blue eyes, but all the features; the exact image if she had been the same age. Same face, expression, those skeptical eyes. It sent shivers down his spine, and Brick rolled over in bed, letting out a groan.

Gosh, he was so tired he could faint if it had not been for his restless mind. Brick didn't want to go back to those dark memories; nightmares from hell, but he didn't see any other way of getting rid of the nagging. Poking at his brain, constantly taunting his attention to where he didn't want it.

It was too hot, he thought while kicking off the covers, hearing the soft thud as it hit the ground. Left and right, he kept turning until it felt like he had ants. Scratching the skin, the male sat up, turned the pillow in a fluffing move and dove his face in it. All he could think about; despite his work, despite Mojo being at his ass expecting the best of him and nothing less, despite his shitty attitude toward his brothers, and pure hatred for one of them, all he could think about was the bittersweet smell of strawberries. The orange, flawless hair wavering in the wind, and those joyful eyes.

«Brick,» he could hear the sweet voice, sometimes playful, and other times innocent. There were so many sides to his name on those pure lips. Laughter lolled through his head, and he let out a sigh. Anyone able to see him at the moment, lying naked in bed, eyes closed with a silly smile taped on his face would damn him crazy. Hell, he damned himself crazy.

Then came the scream, and he jumped straight up. Nerves were on end, breath irregular and sweat flows down his skin like raging waterfalls and he can hear the blood pumping in his ears, making dark spots dance mockingly in front of his eyes. Then came the shaking; his whole body was vibrating uncontrollably, shaking his knees out of balance. Like a stutter, he backed up and moved awkwardly around before reaching the door, opening it inward. The cold air outside hit him like a wall, draining all restlessness away. It went out like water over fire; and just as fast as it had been there, it was gone. The moment of bliss was over before he could manage a protest, and the redhead turned his crimson eyes to the moon.

It stood tall and bright, almost half full. The air went in his lunges, before leaving in a long lasting exhale. Holding it at the lowest, almost no air in his lounges, the air stopped spinning around him for a split second, and he regained himself.

The only one time he had gone to a psychiatrist was a couple of days after the incident. Mojo had hauled his ass down there, barking at him the whole way, but the redhead couldn't remember a single word of what his father had said. The world was dead to him, sounds were gone, colors drained. No taste, no feeling. There wasn't even a whiff of smell in the air. Brick had been skin dead; as good as dead. Locked inside his own mind. The woman with black glasses and blond hair had used some time to get him down on earth again, and it was several hours after Mojo had left. A check was slammed on the desk with an order to fix his son before the day was over or he would have her fired. To her defense, she had really tried her best to talk, suggest, even screamed at one point to make something out of him.

It wasn't before after her third break that something had changed. He remember noticing it, but just vaguely. She was calm, collected, sat down, pushed her glasses up on the bridge of her nose again before beginning.

«Tell me about the girl,» the words echoed through the room, and time seemed to pause. The walls held their breath in expectation, and Brick's pupils focused on the woman, something of the real world, for the first time in days.

«What?» at least that's what it was going to sound like, but it chocked half way making him sound like a little kid in puberty with the high note. Clearing his throat, he repeated the word, jaw clenched. His blankness had kept the memories away, hidden, blocking it out, so it didn't seem real. Like it never had happened. Maybe if he just ignored it, it wouldn't be true.

«The girl, tell me about her,» the woman turned to the blank, maybe noted, pad in her lap, trying her best to hide her revolutionary breakthrough and how proud it made her to achieve something other than nothing. She was very good at keeping it at bay too, had it not been for Brick's expertise in reading micro expressions. He saw the twist at the corner of her lip that lasted for under a split second, the ease in her forehead and the neck muscles clenching to prevent the incoming smile.

«Who told you?» he asked, leaning on his knee, weighting back and forth if to kill her. It wasn't like life mattered anymore, and if anyone knew what had happened, and was enjoying seeing him in pain, he wasn't going to spare their life. Mojo would get ride of the corpse; wasn't like he wanted dirt on him or his boys.

«You told me,» she said, staring blank at him, waiting. He couldn't see any lies, but he knew he had not said anything. They both stared, and he noticed how her blue eyes were genuine. Either she believed with all her heart he had told her, or he actually had. Did he? Tell her, that was. He couldn't remember. Everything was a huge blur of static noise and flashes of colors. It made him more uncertain.

«I told you?» he heard himself say, the words felt so far away. Being as mentally strong as he used to, he pulled himself back on earth, giving her all of his focus. He could see that the intensity of him was suddenly getting to her, because she sat straight up in her chair, twirling with her hair and bit her bottom lip. Did girls usually act like that? He wondered, then he remembered all the girls who used to flirt with him. It had been an amusement to watch, girls wriggling around under his gaze in delight and he could feel the heat of their bodies working up at the imagination of what they would let him do, and what he would initiate himself. This was not one of those moments.

«Yes,» she managed to say, tripping over her own words as her tongue didn't seem to fit in her mouth, the pen in her hand clicked like crazy. Brick knew he had that effect on women, some at least, and it was starting to get on his nerves. He was damn good looking, get over it. Sighing, the male scratched the back of his neck and felt like she at least deserved to listen to some of it if she had managed to draw out that much.

«She is,» he bit the inside of his cheek, «She was an important person to me. I could talk to her about everything, and she understood. There wasn't a thing she didn't understand.» His eyes darted to the window, staring at the outside. Everything from his skin and out felt like the outside. He was looking in a window, having a hard time keeping up with the normal people of this world. Brick had become an extraterrestrial.

«What happened?» her words echoed in his head, making Brick stumble back to the moment of his insanity.

Sensing he was falling back into limbo, the woman moved forward with incredible reflexes and grabbed his hand, as if she could physically hold him back. The sudden movement and touch was working wonders. Brick wanted to become angry and scream at her to leave him alone, and that he never wanted to go back to that moment, but she was simply faster than him.

«It's in the past. Memories of the past can't hurt you in the future, and the best way of reminding yourself about that, is to relive it, and not just it, but up to this passing day. Are you letting your nightmares hold you back, Brick? Are you stuck in the past, powerless? Are you currently not moving on, one way or another? It's your choice which way it goes,» she said, those eyes determent to make her point come across. The worst part was that it worked. She wasn't calling him weak, but encouraging himself to see it. He was being weak. It had changed him, and Brick never went back to get another session.

Staring out in the dark night, the lights and noise from the town filling his vision, the redhead stretched and pulled his muscles before pacing back inside, not wanting any witnesses to what came next. He closed the door behind him, and let his mouth run.

Butch and Brick had been close when younger. Butch would come up with stupid ideas, and Brick would enchant them into a master plan Sometimes they went though with it, and other times they were simply scrapped before even considered. Brick had always been the leader, and called the shot if he felt like it was worth the bother. The green brother wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, but he had his moments of brilliance now and then.

It had been one of those moments, where Brick didn't know if it was worth it or something he couldn't pass out on. They went with it after a couple of groans and moans; the brunette could be a living hell if he didn't get his way.

The smart idea had been to do something they weren't old enough to do; which usually involved sex and drinking, but seeing they had done plenty of it in their year of sixteen, Butch wanted to get a little more extreme

The green eyed one mentioned a place called the Dograce, something adults adults could only get in to. He had even made a joke about even Mojo being too young to get in, and Brick had dismissed it with a fossil joke of his own. It didn't take long for the idea to allure the redhead into accepting it, and before he could reconsider it, they were there.

It had taken some convincing at the door to let them in, they waved cash at the guards face until they could see him physically cold sweat from the amount. Low class, Butch had muttered as they were inside, and the redhead needed to agreed. Money wasn't a problem, and those poor bastards used their whole life to get it while he used his for spending it.

It seemed like an ordinary bar at first, and Brick quickly grew bored, trying to drag his brother out of there. There were better stuff they could do with their time; but the brunette pointed out some people going to the back. If it had been like Brick normally saw it, he wouldn't bother, but the clothes, the people, the sly smiles on their faces as they were waved inside told him they were not working there, and the fun was in the next room.

Both brothers wondered what it could be everyone was so quiet about in this place, no one mentioned what the Dograce was, and if it lived up to it's name, at least they could maybe see some bloody action.

Brick used his silver tongue to get inside, Butch snickering in the background at the poor woman at the door who tried her best not to look flattered at his running in with her. It took some rolling, but she eventually agreed to let them inside, making them promise not to tell anyone it was her doing. Both did so with devilishly handsome smiles.

The room was filled with smoke, laughter of both sex juggling back and forth, some talked really loud, while others hunched together, glancing around. One in particular stood out; it was a fat, small man with in a too tight tux, hair combed over to the side to hide his moon, and the most horrid mustache they both had ever seen. Butch was about to laugh out loud, but his brother already knew what he was about to, and silenced the attention before it came.

With a warning about laying low, they snuck in the crowd toward the biggest, loudest one. They were standing around a huge circle, and stared down. A silence lasted a split second, before they broke out in new excitement

«Twenty bucks the dogs are tearing each other apart,» Butch had whispered, Brick shrugging. He had never seen anything like it before. What were they staring at? He needed to know. With his billion dollar smile he managed to switch place with a middle aged woman, the men next to him glancing before making a remark, with laughter, about his age. Some even had the ordasity to tell him to get to the childrens' section. Not wanting to make a commotion, he let it wash off like water on the duck and concentrated on the task at hand; figuring out what was so damn interesting.

The scene hit him harder than a truck could have. There were at least two stores down, and the arena was quite huge. Hole and pit would not make due with what was going down there, and he could not see it as anything other than an arena for the death and living. Blood, gore, pieces of bone and hair everywhere. Movement caught his gaze, and he felt the breath stagger in his throat. Huge beasts snarled, blood shot eyes and gritted teeth was circling their pray. Form the looks of it, they were the pray, as several of those monsters – Brick didn't know if it was a crossbreed of a dog and a gorilla, or some sort of genetic manipulation – lay as victim to the intruder. Red hair was braided around her body, covering her chest, pulled down at the back of her chest and covering some of her lower parts. Her body was pale, and those pink eyes were magnificent. They were cold, like death itself, and it sent shivers of pleasure down his spine.

She had her fists up, twirling around herself in a slow fashion to keep an eye on all of the monsters at the same time. She was so focused, he could see how she blocked the noise from the spectators out. The thought of her taking them on by herself was unsettling. They were going to tear her apart. Those slender arms and legs, and that skinny neck. He could easily wrap one hand around it.

«Holy shit,» Butch laughed at his side. «Now this is what I call eye candy,» he whistled, making some of the other guys howl with him. Brick didn't know what to say, so he didn't comment at all. The moment of power was over, and one of the beasts threw itself at her. The slender body moved with incredible haste, taking Brick off guard.

He watched as she ripped the arm out, smacking the other with it. The blood splattered around, making the crowd cheer. Some laughed with delight, wile others cursed. Brick picked up some of it, and understood the flocking before. They were making bets about who would win. The Dograce wasn't a race, neither about dogs. It was extreme fights. It was sheer perversity of flying body mass and brutal murder. Brick loved it just as much as Butch did.

Both boys watched the fight bicker back and forth, every move was in the girls favor; until there wasn't much life left in those crossbreeds Grabbing the animal by it's teeth, she dislocated the jaw and cracked it open like a walnut Silence exploded in cheers and laughter, and the girl turned her head up. Somewhat, covered in blood and gore, sweat dripping down her naked skin and breath heaving with adrenalin, Brick felt his heart skip at beat as those pink eyes darted around. She rose a hand in the air, and someone over a speaker named her the victor.

Money were exchanged, and the girl slipped back into an open hole down there, out of the redheads sight. Butch made a lewd comment to his right, but he didn't bother to answer it. Men a this right discussed a price, the numbers flying here and there. Another fight? He wondered. Was it going to be her?

The fat man from earlier, clearly being the man owning the place as people moved away from his path with respect, grinned at everyone. He climbed some stairs, reaching over the head of everyone, waving his hands to get the crowd quiet.

«We're going to start the next fight straight away. Everyone remember the lovely brunette, the maiden from hell itself. Give it up for Elaine! She is going to face a rather interesting opponent tonight.» People cheered, and some moved over to the ring, waiting while betting. Dropping the mic to his side, Brick dashed through the crowd to hear what he was whispering about with the other guys. Most of them were older men, an a woman with long, wavering hair and one of the most revealing dresses he had ever seen, making it hard to not to stare. He reached them just as he heard the woman chuckle at one of the other guests; the fattest man he had ever seen, taller like a skyscraper

«Darling, you can't be serious. There is just no way she would ever agree to come with you, and the reasons are quite obvious.» Her eyebrow did an arch, before she turned to the man in charge.

«Mr. Calhou, she would do much better in my company, and you'd be free to see her anytime you'd like,» the winking had the man rise his eyes a second from her cleavage before smiling sleazily at her.

«Yeah, and you would be sharing her with over hundreds of other men,» a man snarled, his head bold, a dark beard caressing his chin, with the darkest of eyes. There was something charming over him, the suit seemed to fit him perfectly giving the impression of a trustworthy man, his shoulders tall, but lean. Everything about him screamed trust me, and had Brick do the exact opposite. This man knew what he was doing, making him one of the most dangerous people there.

«I assure you, in my care, the girl would be only yours for the pleasures. I have other use of her,» he flashed them a perfect pearly smile, almost blending the crowd.

«When you put it that way,» Mr. Calhou muttered while rising is shoulders, as if it was none negotiable The woman shifted her weight over to the other hip, crossing her arms, making the men squirm with delight at the bouncing of her breasts.

«She would be dead within a week in your care, Him,» the woman gave her best dominant expression, and it was clear she knew how to dominate. The man to Bricks left wriggled in his boots, and he was sure the man wanted to call her mistress. Some guys were weak like that. The redhead would never succumb to a woman; he was in control all the time. «You wouldn't get your chance of fun,» she turned to the owner. Glancing back and forth, he had to agree that the argument was valid. «Why do you even care, Sedusa?» the man mimicked her pose, making it anything but girly. They stood the exact same way, the same expression, the same aura, but they were completely different people. The pipsqueak beside him squirmed, and he almost gave him a questionable look. Really? He would go gay for this one? His crimson eyes rolled, and he felt disgusted.

«All you want her for is to sell her around, acquire the expensive money you take from your sex slaves,» the man sassy snapped at her, before smiling sweetly. The smile was terrifying, and Brick was tempted to take a step back. He was a sadist, and an extreme one. Hell, everyone there was one. Some just came in larger degrees.

«At least mine is the better option,» she mocked him with a sweet smile, turning it into her favor. The man seemed to almost loose his patience as the muscles in his face twitched, and it passed just as quickly as it had come.

«What about money?» he rose an eyebrow at the owner, almost making the man jump from the sudden change of attention. «Let money talk,» the dark voice snickered, smiling the way Sedusa had. Brick felt the back of his neck cringe. He didn't like the dark haired devil. Everything about him screamed dangerous, and was his name really Him? Who named their kid Him?

«Alright, bids in the basket,» Mr. Calhou shrugged and pulled out a black box. Every person around there drew a piece of paper from the inside of their pocket together with a pen. They started scribbling, some glancing over the rest to figure out what they were going with.

«Just think about what she's worth to you,» Mr. Calhou grinned at the rest. Brick felt felt his mouth dry up as papers were folded and placed in the casket.

«Hey, borrow me a pen and a piece of paper,» he whispered to the odd masochistic man, and glanced at him quickly before snapping his neck his way. Oh, boy, Brick thought as he saw those orbs dancing up and down his form. It made him sick inside. If he said anything, the man might not loan him one, so he kept quiet and instead tried his best smile. Seeming like he was going along with it there, the man shook his head before sighing in a twisted mask.

«Sorry. We're only allowed one pen and one piece of paper. You only get to vote once. If you've already used your bid, you won't get another one until next time. Being here, you know this.»

Not wanting to blow his cover, Brick nodded and laughed with a half excuse, something about loosing his paper. The man shrugged apologetic at it, eyes still wandering, before the piece of paper hit the bottom of the case. Brick wanted to curse at him. There wasn't any use of keeping in touch seeing he couldn't get what he wanted from him, he turned to the other man.

The guy twisted the paper between his thumb and index finger, biting his lip nervously as he glanced around at the rest of the writers.

«If you're not going to, I'd be happy to do it instead,» Brick said to him, and the man met his gaze. They were about the same high, the same broad shoulders. His hair was however short, and somewhat orange instead. He was a ginger without freckles and oddly brown eyes. His fingers stopped their nervous roaming.

«I'm just not sure if I want to use it on her or someone else tonight, you understand?» he said, scratching the back of his neck. Brick wanted to face palm Holy hell he was a dork.

«It's fine,» he dismissed him with a wave of his wrist, crimson orbs searching the crowd for anyone left. Everyone were staring at the one, black point. There wasn't anyone left to ask.

«Do you think I could get your paper tonight?» he asked, feeling awkward for going back to him so quickly. The options weren't there, and Brick was starting to feel very desperate. He needed to make a bid. The money wasn't the problem, but the voting was. Stupid fuck.

«Don't you have your own?» he said, and his eyes then stared at the casual clothes. A sweater and jeans. The plan was to not draw any attention, and this one seemed to question his looks. Brick could see the catastrophe he had caused by drawing too much attention. «Who- Who are you?» the man asked. «I don't think I've seen you here before, and no offense but you don't seem to fit in here.»

Luckily, he didn't have to answer as Mr. Calhou announced the round over, fingers pulling out the paper. Brick cursed as he watched the man eyed every single one, and his was not included. If only he had one of those cursed piece of papers.

«Yeah, him,» he heard the voice say, and two pair of strong hands grabbed him by the shoulders, yanking him back. He didn't get who won as they quickly removed him from the perimeter and threw him out of the entrance door. It didn't matter how much he had struggled, they were like iron on his shoulders. There was no way anything could be that strong; and they were on the outside before he could collect his real strength to resist. Despite their size, those guys were effective. Butch landed beside him seconds after, cursing loudly at the men. They ignored the teens howls and entered. Apparently Butch had given a shout when they had carried his brother outside, busting himself. Moron.

«What the fuck did you do, Brick?» Butch muttered as they rose from the cold ground. «What happened to staying low and not draw any attention. It was getting good too.»

«Shut the fuck up,» Brick barked. He wasn't angry at his brother, but more so at himself. The green eyed boy left him there, muttering something about going back home or over to a girl to finish up the party. Brick couldn't care less, as he had only one plan.

It felt like hours had passed, as he stood there patiently outside, waiting for the right person, as the man in the dress strolled, waving at the guards with a scary smile. Rushing up to his side, Brick got his attention immediately

«Who won the girl?» he asked, and the questioning look turned sour as he rolled his eyes. Totally gay.

«That wretched hag did. By the way, how did you sneak inside?» he asked grinning while eying him up and down. The ruff bit back a back. What was it with these odd guys, staring at both sex?

«Paid the guard,» Brick gestured to the door, making the older man look dumbfound between them. A laughter escaped his lips as he cracked open, wiping his eyes as he finished up. Everything about this man was dangerous, even his dark, rich laugh.

«It's so simple I would never have guessed,» he complimented, though Brick wasn't sure it was one. Shrugging in response, he lost interest seeing the man didn't have what he wanted.

«What's your name, kid?» he purred.

«Pedo much?» Brick snarled, harsh eyes flickering on his face. He tried to stare as best he could, but somewhat his orbs kept bouncing back and fourth, as if it was hard to focus. This man was something else. Cold hands of death crept up his back, making him shudder unpleasant.

«Ah, you must be Mojo's kid,» the man snickered, grabbing him by the chin. Brick fought hard to get out of it, but this man was incredibly strong. His fingers were locked like iron around his his jaw, and for the second time, he felt stumbled and helpless.

«Get the fuck off me,» he spat and used every ounce of his brute force to twist out of the grip. The man didn't seem faced while Brick felt his muscles vibrate from the sudden, quickly usage. Who the fuck was he? Butch was the only person who opposed him in strength at times, and those were rare occasions. «Who are you?»

The man blinked before sighing. «Typical Mojo,» he clicked his tongue against his teeth while turning his gaze to a far away place. «Ah, well. Have a great evening, Brick,» he grinned the sadistic smile and passed him, making the redhead turn around, head filled with even more questions. The man was gone. Shuddering, Brick pushed him out of mind, and went back to the task at hand. He was glad the creepy old man hadn't won, because he wasn't sure he would be able to persuade him. Women on the other hand, now that was his specialty.

He didn't have to wait so long the second time, others coming and leaving in the mean while, before the dark haired woman strolled out the door. She stood tall, as if everyone there were under her dignity to look at. Rushing over, she saw the movement out of the corner and proceeded to ignore him, until he spoke up.

«You won the race, didn't you?» Her eyes were harsh as she quickly softened up when she saw exactly who it was. A smile of delight sprouted on her face.

«You're the kid that got thrown out of the Dograce,» she commented, doing like every single person had done so far the evening; checking him out. It was like a greeting ritual, and he was frankly getting sick and tired of it. Sure, they bought humans and did with them as they pleased, but he wasn't for sale damn it. Neither was he an object.

«Yeah, that's me,» he quickly got it over with before continuing. «So, did you win?» As on queue, she held a piece of paper up. A contract, he saw as the first words caught his glance and the signing under.

«I'd like to buy her off you,» he stood tall, shoulders rolled back, face neutral. His hands found his pockets, and he smiled with the left side of his face. Her whole body swooned with those risen eyebrows, and he wanted to laugh. It was his business look, the one he used every time he wanted something he was going to get. Despite his half shabby clothes, it worked every time.

«Oh, kid. She was very expensive, but if you'd like to take her place, I know I could easily put you to use,» her lips fluffed up, lashes waving his way, body luxuriously shifting, giving him a view of the goods. Not owning any self control left, from the odd and new experiences – most of them tiresome – he chuckled at her.

«I've got the money to pay for her, and even put in a bonus.» It didn't fall well with her as she took another mocking glance up and down, not seeing the man he was, but she shabby kid in casual clothes. Had he known it was going to be such problem, he would have dressed up in something more impressive. Rich and powerful people were the biggest assholes.

«Doesn't look like it, and seeing how you were treated when exposed, I bet you're not even old enough to get an invite to the Dograce in the first place, let alone have the expenses to use,» she turned to leave, but he pulled her back by the shoulder. The sudden movement flashed at him with anger, before she immediately scuffed.

«My name is Jojo,» he said, and watched as her eyes grew larger with the realization of what she was being told. «And by it, you know I have the money.» Opening and closing her mouth a couple of times, she regained herself.

«Alright, but I can't let you buy her,» the woman didn't look him in the eyes any more, hair waving in the wind. There were only three things that didn't freeze in the cold, and that was polar bears, penguins and whores. The cold was nibbling at his skin, but having a center temperature equal to the sun, it didn't face him the least.

«Why not?» he snarled, loosing patience. Everyone was working against him today, and he wasn't used to things taking so much time. Brick Jojo always got his way. Always.

«Because I didn't buy her for me.» The words didn't make sense, and Brick shook his head, signaling he didn't understand what she was trying to say. Sedusa waved it off with her right hand, trying over again.

«Tell you what; you can buy her time. She's going to work for me at the NeedWant, and you can have her for a certain amount of time for the right price.» He glared daggers at her, and she finally met his eyes. They spoke of experience and hardship, though climbs in the darkness and lone adventures, but also success. He could see her strong will keeping everything together. «It's your final offer, kid.»

«Alright,» Brick sighed, giving in. It felt bitter, but it was something. He could just stop by and buy up all her time, for days, months, even years. No one would ever get to her, because he was going to own every single minute of her life. The corner of his mouth twitched, and he rose his hands. Maybe he had won after all.

«She'll start tomorrow. See you at NeedWant,» Sedusa smirked at him before taking off, leaving Brick to his own. And he was back in his room, staring at those cold walls. It had only been the beginning, and oh so little had he known of her schemes and sly betrayal. It was true that he could come down and buy her time, but not fully as much as he had wanted. Their max amount of time to buy was six hours, and one could not lay in several requests on the same girl on a row. He had to stand in line just to meet her. It was the first thing that Sedusa had cheated him off, and the second was that the girl was already booked, for a week.

He came there every day, trying to see her, but was refused every time. Until the fifth day, when he took a bear and sat there, feeling sorry for himself and suppressing the urge to rip Sedusa's head from her shoulders.

«You look rather young to be drinking,» a voice laughed and he glanced up, into the face of an angel. Red hair tied up in two high pigtails, the hair reaching at least her knees. The slender legs visibly taunting his thoughts, such a slim waste with perfectly formed boobs perking from under the soft linen cloth, the neck of pride, those full lips, and the mesmerizing pink orbs. He could breath for a second, and must have looked like a fool as she giggled.

«Why thank you. You're not so shabby looking yourself,» she winked, and he had to take a look at his red shirt going well with his black, I-mean-business pants. His long, crimson hair was tied at the the back of his neck, and he somewhat felt his mouth dry up. It was starting to get awkward, as he cleared his voice.

«What's your name?» he managed to to say. The sweet smile hit him straight in the heart, and he felt it beat furiously. God fucking damn it, she was gorgeous up front. He almost couldn't believe himself, nor the sight that pleased his eyes. She was nothing like what he had imagined, but it wasn't disappointing, but rather pleasing.

«Berserk,» someone yelled at her, a woman in her late age, but still had the body to work at the brothel. The redhead winked at him before taking off. His heart wouldn't stop fluttering like a butterfly as he went home, and he couldn't sleep the next days, being too worked up to meet with her. They had six hours. What was he going to do? Where would he take her? What would he wear? God, he could not let her down in any way. Brick didn't want to admit it, but he was starstruck by her. Both her beautiful voice, her appearance, and just everything about her.

He knew he sounded like Boomer, and was not usually the one to jump about and have his breath taken away, like a cliche in a movie; but this was something he couldn't explain. His body was physically reacting, his mind was on cloud nine, and life was good. Everything was good.

For the day, he had changed over twenty times, having the maids run back and forth. To his family he had said it was a dinner with another company, and he needed to look his best. Mojo had been proud, giving him a pat on the shoulder. His brothers had asked if it was a beautiful lady, or as Butch had so gallantly put it; a busty babe. Neither got anything out from him.

Brick didn't want to to be too much. He didn't want to scare her away, or seem like a douche. Everything seemed wrong and weird, stiff and awkward, and one of the maids ad suggested a shirt with some nice jeans. Somewhat, it was the only thing that could maybe work.

Standing at the reception, or booking in the NeedWant, Brick fondled with the inside of his pocket. He was so nervous he would have hit himself had it not been so crowded The woman in charge had given him some strange stares, fully knowing he was under age of buying, however, she didn't comment on it as she gave him the keys to a room. He stared down at it, before rushing off, forgetting to thank her. Was he suppose to thank her? Damn, he didn't know anymore.

Looking between the number in his hand and the ones on the doors, he found the one he was looking for. Standing in front of it, he drew a breath and knocked twice. Fuck, why did he knock? Why was he so weird? Was he suppose to just barge in? That was even worse. Maybe knocking was okey? Then again, it was a whore house. He had paid for the time with her. Go in, don't go in? Go in?

The door opened and he stared at the girl. She was even more beautiful than he remembered. Those eyes and the hair. The smell of strawberries pushed him over on a floating cloud. God, he was loosing it.

Glancing from him to the key in his hand, she opened it wider, gesturing for him to come in. He apologized and stepped inside, staring at her. The mental beating he gave himself to stop being such a little turd didn't help to avert his gaze, so he physically turned away from her. His eyes took in the surroundings, laced with silk and burning candles It was to set the mood. Just like looking at a movie, or porn, he thought.

«Uhm, Berserk,» he said, feeling the lameness in his voice. The lack of response made him turn, and he felt unsure. She was too quiet, had something happened? The girl had been so cheerful the days before, and now she was just a blank paper. He said her name one more time.

«Yes?» she answered, no emotion in her face. Everything about her felt cold, but no matter how much he stared, she was the same girl, with the same posture and the same look. Her voice was even the same.

«Did someone do something to you?» he asked, and a hand was placed on her shoulder. The girl stared at it for a second before she met his eyes.

«No. Tell me what you want me to do,» she said opening the robe. Lace of slink, red, smooth fabric against her skin wrapped up her most exiting parts. He felt like a kid at Christmas, wanting to rip the present open straight away. It took some serious self control not to.

«I, eh,» he stuttered. Grabbing the robe up from the floor and held it in front of his face, covering her body from his vision. He couldn't think straight with temptation at his door like this. It wasn't like he didn't want her, because he did really badly, but it was not the approach he had imagined. Dinner, fun, laughter, then sex later. She wasn't very shy.

«I'd like to use the time to take you out to dinner,» he muttered, feeling his cheeks burn. His pants were far too tight from the tent forming, and the incoming groan was choked in a strong hold. No way in hell was he going to be stamped a fucking virgin like that.

«Dinner?» Berserk questioned. He could tell the word seemed unfamiliar to her and he quickly used the time to wrap her up.

«Yes. Would you let me?» he asked, and he saw her eyebrows furrow slightly. He muffled a chuckle, his lips no doubtingly forming a curvy smile. She was just like a kid, being handed responsibility and not knowing what to do with it.

«It's just food. I'll take you back straight away if you don't like it or feel uncomfortable.» food seemed to be the magic word as she blinked nodded her head. A loss for words. Did Sedusa feed her properly?

«Do you have any other clothes?» He asked, as she wrapped the rope around herself, gesturing that she was ready to go.

«No,» she said. He could hear the word, but it felt so quiet. So dead. If he took her like that to the place he had in mind, they would all know what she was. No way were he letting that come in the papers; his father would explode. Butch would mock the fuck out of him, Blaster at his side mimicking Boomer was probably going to do a motherly talk, and as bad as the first one felt, the last one was definitely the worst.

«Alright,» he muttered and picked the phone out of his pocket, pushing a speed dial. The other end cheerfully welcomed him, and asked of what service they would bestow him.

«I'd like a dress, something casual?» he questioned, not really sure what type of clothes to order for Berserk. The voice at the other end ranted on, naming different types of material and dresses, but he frankly had no idea what to put her in, so the designer at the other end had him send a photo. He quickly took one, while apologizing to the other redhead. The man at the other end screamed in delight, almost stealing Brick of his hearing, as the ranting of praise went on and on.

«Yes, yes,» he muttered over all the possibilities the man could do with the girl, all the pretty clothes and the beautiful looks. «Something casual, Antonio,» he sternly said. The man promised to have it ready by the ten minutes they dropped by. Turning it off and returning it to his pocket, he shook his head. The man was just too passionate for his own good, but that also made him the best.

There was a window at right side of the room, and Brick walked toward it. He waved for the girl to follow, and she stiffly did so. It was locked, but he forced it open. Due to the Chemical-X in his system, he was stronger, faster and more durable than normal humans. Kind of like a super human.

He picked the 'Do Not Disturb' sign off the counter and run to the door, quickly placing it on the handle on the other side, before closing it and storming back to the redhead. She was breathing in the fresh air, eyes closed. His heart skipped another beat, and he was sure that he would die if it kept doing so. Everything about her; he couldn't believe what he had found.

Climbing out the window, he held a hand out for her to take. Berserk stared at it before staring at him.

«Please, trust me,» he said, sending her one of his warmest smiles. She was like a puppy, but a skeptical puppy. So adorable he wanted to lay down in bed and just nuzzle her all day long. Careful, slowly and unsteady, she touched his hand. It surprised him, because he could feel the coolness on her skin. It wasn't much, but he could actually feel the cold. It didn't bounce of like the wind or ice, or even snow did. It touched his skin, and he could feel it. Snapping his breath, he swallowed.

Brick pulled her closer, and she let him, a hand on her waist, the other moving from her fingers to under her knees. She was pulled tightly up into his chest, and they stared at each other. His foot was half way out the open window, several floors over the ground, her skin exposed to the cold night, and the only thing he could think about, were those shining eyes. Her breath on his lips, and he jumped.

* * *

Loud music pumped the whole place with life and rhythm, people standing around, making jokes and flirting. Some were making out and others bumped into each other with screaming 'woo's. It was a very lively place, one to be lit up at all times, morning, day and night.

Butch barged in, angry stomping his way. He always had problems hiding his mood or what he thought; it was just the way he was made. When he turned eighteen, NeedWant was the place to go to when his mood was most foul. The place always seemed to light him up, taking away all his sorrow by drowning them in booze and beer.

It was the damn chick's fault. The one that had dared to harm his future children. He had been out all day searching for her at that blasted junk yard, going up and down, but however hard he had tried, he could not for the love of boobs find the damn place, nor the fucking girl.

He could see her green eyes in his dreams, mocking him like the fool he was. Growling, he sat down at the bar and ordered five shots, and two beers. Lost in his own thoughts, he quickly picked up a couple more as time passed from past daytime, to late night.

Due to that wretched skank, he couldn't take any of the other girls up on their handsome offer, and he ordered a drink to them before sending them off. The spank on their butt had the girls giggle at him, but he honestly could not care less. The moment wasn't right, and he didn't feel like it. Fuck these sluts.

«Butch, what's up, man?» a man punched him in the arm and he grinned at his brother.

«Blaster! Holy hell, bro. When did you get back?» he roared with laughter and they shook hands like some wannabe gangsters. It had first started out as a mock and joke, but the gesture stuck around, starting to mean something to them both. They were brothers, and would always be so.

«Just an hour ago, or so,» he ordered a beer and froze in the risen hand. Butch, drunken than a sailor turned his orbs to stare at what had caught his brothers attention. The bartender was standing with her back to them, long red hair down her back. Her arms were lace-less, displaying alluring skin.

«Coming right up,» she said, and they both watched as she filled the glass and turned around. Her brown eyes drew them in. Damn, how had he missed such a beautiful person before? Had she always been there, taking his orders? Shit, he was either blind or his beer glasses were firmly tucked upon the bridge of his nose.

«What's your name, miss?» he heard Blaster say, with his lost puppy voice. Slick bastard; no chick could withstand it, and the green ruff watched the bartender as she licked the lower part of her lip – god what he wouldn't do to them around his limb – and turned away to pick up a glass. She started cleaning it. Work it, girl, Butch thought as he watched her hands move up and down, all around.

«For the right price, it can be anything,» she said, rising an eyebrow at his brother. That mother fucking lucky bastard, holding her attention like that. The fact that she had countered his trump card had the Butch laughing like hysterical. Both that, and the wooziness from his drunken ass.

«I'll pay your double your shift if you tell me your real name,» Blaster said, leaning forward on his elbows. The girl bit her lip, making Butch twist with pleasure. Holy hell she was a tease. Her hand lifted a glass from under the counter and placed it in front of his face, sweet smile in place. It read 'tips'.

Blaster flicked out his wallet and stuffed a couple of thousand bills down the jar. She seemed taken aback for a second before placing it back under the desk.

«It's Claire,» she said. His brother lowered his shoulders and almost seemed disappointed.

«Have a good night, Claire,» he rose from his seat. She smiled at him and gave a jokingly salute.

«Where are you going? The party is just about to start,» Butch waved his hand about, knocking down one of the empty glasses at the counter. «I'll pay for it,» he said to the redhead.

«I need to do something at home,» his brother muttered, and took off without another word. Butch shrugged. So what if her name was Claire? He'd still fuck her brains out if he could.

Turning back to the counter, he now watched her as she cleaned up and served more people. Her moves were so gracious, and he knew right there and then that she wasn't just a bartender. She was a part of the stripper team.

«So,» he said, drawing her attention. Taking a sip from his beer he watched her wait for it. Oh, he wouldn't have her wait for it if he could. «What is your name, really?» the twinkle in his eyes had her kill the protests ready to come, before they were even born. If she was a stripper, she was quite good at lying and wouldn't have her name known to anyone.

Lifting the jar up again, he laughed wholeheartedly. She was one clever girl, he'd give her that.

«Good one,» he rose her glass at her, and he saw her lips stretch out in a smile. Was it real? It was too damn pretty to be fake. «But seriously, what is it?» he leaned forward, and she mimicked him. Her hand rested along with the surface, creating an invisible wall between them.

«Promise not to tell anyone?» He lowly laughed before promising to.

«Is it something like Bunny or Cheery?» The girl gave him another display of her beauty as she laughed and shook her head.

«It's Blossom,» she smiled.

He repeated her name, tasting it in his mouth. «That's quite beautiful.»

«Thank you, stranger.» Both laughed, all of Butch's worries and murderous thoughts were gone, for now.

* * *

Thank you so much for reading. Remember to leave a comment. Until next time.


	4. Chapter 4

**Jokers of Clover**

Blaster felt horrible. He was so sure the girl at the bar had been Berserk. Sure, she was slightly older and he was tired like a worn out horse, but her skin, her gallant, casual way of doing things, and not to say the least the red hair, it was all the same. The only difference were the name and those brown eyes. Berserk had pink eyes, one of a kind. Those type of eyes that pierced ones soul and stuck in your mind forever. The brunette sure as hell couldn't forget them, however hard he tried, and it had mostly with Brick to do. Guilt and remorse haunted the youngest of the Jojo's, and there was nothing he could do to make amends. When the bartender had popped out of no-where, he found himself begging the upper gods that it was Berserk; so he could save both himself and Brick.

It was late night, and Blaster opened the door to the mansion, hoping not to run into their father or Boomer; the only person he wanted to see was the redhead. He had been so long gone, and he wanted to see his brother. No, it was more like a need to see him.

Casually floating up the stairs, because some of the boards would creek in protest if stepped on, the man landed at the top, taking a stroll down the corridor. Mojo didn't want several rooms for the boys; he wanted them to have one big room, sparing the doors from the slams of leaving one to go to the next, just to do something else. Thus, four doors marked the walls upstairs. Butch's was on the furthest right at the end of the hall, Boomer's next to him, while Brick and Blaster shared across from each other, something the redhead cursed to later on, and the brunette felt awkward about. It was one of the reasons he didn't keep home so much; for fear of running into Brick at random times. He was famous for wandering the house in thought's when he had hit an end to his work. Help him keep the blood flowing, he had explained to his restlessness.

Ending in front of the door, Blaster bit his under lip. This was a really risky chance, because if the redhead wasn't awake from before, he sure as hell was going to kill him for waking him up. Was it really worth it? After today, he had to see him. Brick needed to know how sorry he was; that he would take it all back if he could. Even if it took years, and he had to apologize several million times and received a smack in the face, he still had to do it. It had become routine.

He drew several breaths, shook his muscles, and mentally prepared. It was a battlefield every time they saw each other, one that took a great toll on the youngest brother for several reasons. His oldest brother was hurting, and it was all his fault. And there was nothing Blaster could do to fix it. Nothing he said would ever take back what he did, and nothing he did would get his brother's sanity back. Fuck it, he thought and pushed the door open.

The sound was horrible; a demon in agonizing pain was howling. The redhead was gripping his head, knees on the floor. It was clear he was in agony and despair, tears streaming down his eyes and mouth threatening to slit his head in two. The smell of trapped, dead air hit the brunette's nose, making him gag. It was too hot in there, probably due to his brother's raging tantrum.

Blaster was hurting. Just seeing Brick like that, bent over and so lost had a lump form in his throat, making it hard to breathe. Swallowing it away, he closed the door behind him and darted forward. The only way to pull him down to earth, was to physically hold him together. In the beginning, the brunette had tried to approach with affection and physical contact like hugs and pats; but he wasn't their mothers, and it fell in sour soil with his brother.

The brunette had suffered several painful nights with black and blue bruises, broken bones and busted skin, bleeding horribly. It had it's effect, he had stopped being close, but not quite. Talking to the redhead didn't work, and he knew what he needed to do, even if it cost him an eye or a fracture.

A strong hand gripped around the upper arm of the redhead – when had Brick become so skinny? Had he completely stopped eating? - and he forcefully pulled him off the floor and on to his feet. The effect was immediate; the hard face calmed, those distant eyes came back to reality, and he stopped screaming. Everything inside him relaxed, and Blaster almost smiled to greet his brother back, but the redhead was faster. His crimson orbs became cold at the sight of him, and he snatched his arm out of his grips faster than lightning. He snarled, a hiss escaping his lips. The brunette knew he would lash out any second, probably popping an eye out for the hell of it.

«What the hell do you want?» The tone was chiller than the top of Mount Everest, but he hadn't hit him. He was just glaring daggers, and that was fine with the brunette. A smile almost found it's way to his mouth.

«You were screaming again, Brick,» he explained, pushing his luck. His palm never reached the redhead's shoulder, but was swatted away like a disgusting spider's claw. Of course, even if he didn't beat him, he was still angry. His brother would be angry at him for the rest of his life and beyond the grave, while Blaster would be sorry for all eternity to come.

«The room is soundproof. And you're the last one to care for my well being.» The words stung. The redhead always called him names, gave him the silent treatment and psychically violated him, but the denial of him being sorry hurt the most. It didn't matter what the brunette said; Brick was pissed at him. He would never believe him, and that hurt more than a stab in the heart.

Blaster understood. The man was all too aware how dreadful his sin was, how hard it was to forgive him and move on. The redhead couldn't, and frankly, he didn't blame him. Brick had every right to be angry, and for years the brunette wanted him to. He had purposely agitated and pushed the redhead to punish him. To lash out, slice him up and beat him black and blue. For years, Blaster deserved it, he wanted to feel the pain he had caused his brother, but it only lasted so long.

He didn't deserve it, but boy did he want his older brother to forgive him and move on, because he cared for his brother deeply.

«It's not true-» he protested, feeling desperation knocking at his window with a mocking smile. Brick was still stone cold. His eyes capable of stoning even Medusa herself, his posture shouldering the rapture itself, ready to let it go at any moment. Despite his broken mind, the redhead was strong, stronger than any of the others.

«I wouldn't be in this situation had it not been for you, and you know it damn well.» It was a low blow. Blaster wanted to protest, but he couldn't. The words were just too true, and he couldn't deny them. «That's what I thought. Get the fuck out of my room.»

«Brick-»

«Get the fuck out of my room, Blaster,» and the patience was gone. A hand rose, ready to strike, and the brunette sighed in defeat. His brother had a bad temper, and with those red eyes, he wondered if he could actually see red from time to time. They were glowing, like cinders in the dead ash. Backtracking, he retreated out of the room, giving him one last glance before exiting.

Brick was back in his nightmares, too far gone to be riled back in again. He had tried, and that was all he ever could. Never be there for him when he needed it, never help him out of the self dug ditch, and never give him the salvation he sought. Because Blaster wasn't what he needed, the only help he had provide was digging the god forsaken ditch to bury his brother alive, and salvation could only mean his death. All Blaster could do, was be there, take the beating, try his best, then leave with his tail between his legs like the bitch he was.

After the little rundown, a complete K.O from the oldest brother, the brunette found himself unable to sleep. He had paused in the hallway, let the event linger over his head. How a fool he had been, thinking he would be forgiven. The sight of the redhead at the bar had been some kind of sign. At least, that's what he had thought. Maybe his brother had been better. Dumb mistake.

Blaster was different. He wasn't like the rest of the brothers, born from Mojo's blueprints of the originals. He was an experiment, to see if the effect could be repeated with other, seemingly as powerful ingredients.

No matter what, he could feel he was different. Like Boomer, he could never really be so cheerful and charming, never as bashful and strong willed as Butch, and never as clever and strategically genius as Brick. Blaster could never disobey orders Mojo gave him. He could never do as he pleased himself, and he couldn't live his life. He was but a guard.

It didn't prevent his older brothers to treat him like one of them, at least when they were younger. They used to play together like good children, none of them pushing him aside or ignoring him. They had been so kind, so accepting so good to him, and the brunette did everything wrong. Ruined Brick's life, and he couldn't ask the brothers for help. No, that would go against the orders he was given, and he couldn't. It was the way he was built. Like a program on a computer, he had specific jobs, and nothing else.

Like so many times before, he found himself at the first floor. Blaster was so busy beating himself up about his failure – yet again – that he didn't think much of it before he was face to face with his father.

«Blaster,» he greeted, and the man bowed his head, like Mojo was the king. The brunette wasn't like the other sons of his; he was more of a bodyguard and a butler. It was his job to take care of the trio and report back to the man.

«Butch is currently at NeedWant, drinking. I heard snoring from Boomer's room, so I assume he's sleeping. Brick,» he hesitated. Despite having orders to report everything, he couldn't tell him about the redhead's state of mind. For what Mojo knew, Brick was functioning like normal. The soundproof walls helped with concealing the ugly truth of his mental break downs, and Blaster didn't want the man to make the situation worse. Their father meant well, but he had an iron grip on everything, and was an expert at keeping his emotions in check and staying level headed all the time at every given situation. He didn't know his son's weren't like that.

First command; keep his brothers safe at what ever cost. It was what he intended to do, even if it blackened his soul and went against other commands.

«He's doing what he usually does, father.»

«Good. How did the business trip go?» The brunette held his face in place, despite an ugly snarl working it's way up his throat. It was Mojo's naming of the innocent butchering he had just done, just for the sake of everything going the way the powerful man wanted. He was feared for a reason, and everyone who went against him were eliminated or deadly wounded with mental scars that split the soul in two.

«Mission accomplished,» he said. Blaster didn't want to think about it. The screaming and crying, begging for their lives. Those bright, blue eyes loosing their light. Just another pair of skeletons stuffed in his already full closet. There were so many, and he could name every single one. Every death was different. And every single one blackened his soul further. He was soon dead himself. On the inside, at least.

A part of him had also wished Brick had killed him. His brothers were the only ones capable of taking his life, but the redhead had been careful that way. The man had wanted his brother to live, to remember everything he had done and never escape it. It was one of the reasons he had stopped beating him; he knew Blaster was hurting, that he had problems living with what he had done, and the pain in him was enough for the redhead. The brunette was going to kill himself slowly.

«Excellent. To be honest, I never expected anything big from you, but you're proving to be quite the useful access. Well done, my son.» The hand on his shoulder was heavy, and he resisted the urge to swat it away. The fact that Mojo was proud of him for slaughtering innocent children made him sick to his stomach.

«I have a couple of boxes in the living room I need you to move to the dungeon. Stuff them somewhere they'll never see the day of light again.»

«Understood,» he nodded and walked past him. Mojo was stroking his bread, a file in his hand.

«Oh, and Blaster,» he called. Those eyes were dangerous, and the brunette knew where Brick had his cold stare from. «Do hurry. I don't want you down there for too long.»

Another bow before he hurried along the way. Of course, the rich man couldn't have a normal basement or attic like the rest of the world, he needed a dungeon. Luckily for him, the man only needed two boxes moved, so he only had to take one turn.

The stone stairs under his socks were hard and freezing. The brunette had been down there several times, but never long. Mojo was very secretive with his things, and he didn't mind. The place gave him the creeps.

Torches lit the place, dust filling nooks and crannies, slithering animals darts across the floor. Shadows moved uncontrollably as the flame danced their melancholy dance. The doors were of wood, locked with chains. One was half way open, the third door down the corridor, and he assumed it was where the box was suppose to go.

He remembered when his brothers had been younger and freer. They had snuck inside despite Mojo's warning, and explored as much Boomer had dared. The boy had been crying when they had returned. It had been a maze down there, a lot larger than the house itself, and the blond boy had been lost. Butch had mocked him for months to come, telling him not to run after rats again. Every girl he had been chasing after that had been nicknamed the rat.

Blaster wanted to get out of the place as fast as possible, but as he closed the door and turned to leave, he felt a gust of the wind. It came from the inside, and he glanced with a puzzled expression. Was there a hidden door or windows down there? He couldn't remember anything like it from the prints on the house. He had been studying them, in case something happened and he needed to know everything about the house.

The only thing he didn't know was the maze like dungeon. He hadn't seen any blueprints on them, or even any indication of them ever existing. The air was cold. Like a breath of the frost giants. The hair on his neck stood on ends, and the brunette felt an unexplainable drag toward it. Toward danger and adventure.

Mojo had told him to come straight back up, but exploring a little wouldn't hurt, right? Just a little. He could turn back any moment, and he didn't remember any doors from beyond the fifth. Just halls. Several hundred blind ways. At least, that's what it had felt like when he was younger.

Prowling, he was carefully sneaking because it felt like Mojo would know otherwise, around corner upon corner, he found himself curious. He wanted to know what was at the end. Treasure? Maybe this is where Mojo kept his money and valuables he didn't want anyone else to find.

The torches flickered as he moved, and after an hour of walking, it felt like it was never ending. Everywhere he went, there was a dead end, and it felt like he hadn't progressed at all. Sure enough, at the next turn, he was at the start.

«What the fuck,» he muttered under his breath, glaring at the walls. Something was fishy about the place. Fishing a notebook from his pocket and a pen, he started drawing where he went. It didn't take him long to figure out he was going in circles. The pen crossed over itself several times as he walked. As he found himself at the entrance, a lot of gibberish in his notes, he could only conclude with one thing. The walls were moving.

A smile broke out on his face, and he couldn't help the childish chuckle. The maze was enchanted, and that made so much sense. No wonder they hadn't gotten anywhere as children and he couldn't find the exit. Brute force always worked. The punch landed and the wall shook, but it didn't shatter. Wrinkling is eyebrows like maggots, he pulled his hand back and punched again. Not even a scratch.

«What are you hiding, father?» he asked with a smile, and decided it was time to stop playing nice. Taking off from the ground, he glanced over the maze. It went on for an eternity, and as he approached it, the walls shot toward the roof, crashing loudly. Panic filled him. There was no way no one on top of the house was going to hear that.

Mojo was going to be so pissed at him for overruling his duties and breaking his commands. How something had managed him to avert from his goal, he had no idea. What was at the end? He was so curious it was going to follow to his grave. Scared of being busted, he left the place, one last glance at it before exiting the dungeon.

So the maze was flying proof, the walls moved around so he ended up back at the same place. How as he suppose to get through? There had to be some sort of trick to it.

Blaster was expecting the older man to be at the top, giving him a disappointed look and punishing him, but there was no one there. The light's were off, indicating everyone were sleeping and the maids had left for the day. How could they sleep through that? He wondered. The crash had been loud enough for him to think those walls were going to pierce the roof and crush the house.

It was late, he figured as he stared at the clock on the wall. After everything, he was so tired he could fall over and sleep on the floor right there, but he knew he wouldn't be able to get a wink of sleep the night. Everything in his head was spinning out of control, so he jumped in his shoes and equipped his jacket.

The moonlight was beautiful in the cloudless sky. The wind was chilling and soothing against his sweating and exited muscles. Letting himself hover over the city, lights and chatter filling the night, a dab of cat fight and howling dogs here and there. These were the moments he loved the most, the open heavens for his taking, no one was there to disturb him.

At the back of his mind, he couldn't let the maze go. What was it? He wanted to know what was so important that Mojo needed magic to keep it hidden. It could be one of his weaknesses. What could his father have as a weakness? The man could walk across a bridge made by pained puppies without batting an eye.

No matter how he twisted and turned his brain, he couldn't understand what it was, and it made his curiosity worse. He didn't just want to know what it was, he needed to know. Deciding there, he was going back tomorrow. Try again, hoping Mojo wouldn't notice.

Landing on the ground, he entered the bar known as NeedWant. He wasn't going to stay long, just wondered if Butch was still around. Sure enough, the brunette was sitting at the bar, giggling away at the bartender.

By the way they were behaving, he was sure the moron had stuffed his golden credit card inside her jar. His brunette brother was always a sucker for the women, falling for their tricks and gave them the whole world. Until he got tired of them, then they were scrapped away. Usually in a dumpster or left for him to hide the body.

«Na, na, na, I'm telling you. It really did happen. Boy cried like a little bitch for weeks, no, months later.» The redhead chuckled at him, flipping another shot on the bench. He was clearly drunk beyond recognition, still she didn't seem faced by it. Must be used to alcoholics and their pirate stories. An old story quickly grows from one feather to three chickens, right?

«Butch,» he patted him on the shoulder, taking the seat to his left. Just like last time he had been there.

«Bro, brother, homie. You're back. I didn't think you would be back, but you're back,» he was talking horribly inaccurate, but he could still understand what he was saying. That was a good sign. Blaster remembered how Mojo had been awful at repeating himself and saying the same thing all over again in different way's. Things that could be said with one sentence instead of fifteen. Luckily, the man had abandoned the habit to make better use of his time. It seemed like the brunette had picked up on it when he was drunk under the table.

«Yeah, and I think it's about time to go home and leave the pretty lady alone.» Blaster couldn't resist mocking his brother. The man was behaving like a fourteen year old girl after one beer, and he wouldn't pound on him in the state he was in. He was just too drunk to pick up on the mockery.

«Nah, man, bro. She's cool with me being here. I still have money, and I can keep going. Barely even drunk, and the party's just started.» He threw his hands around, pleased with himself. Blaster rose an eyebrow as he glanced around the bar. The smoke was still soothing, and the light was flashing, but there were hardly any people left. Most had left for a cozy bed back home.

«Besides, she's cool with it. Aren't you, darling? We're having so much fun. I still have money.» And he was lost in his blabbering, words shifting places in sentences, and he could barely pronounce the word besides. It took him three tries to get it right.

The woman behind the bench just shrugged her shoulders at him, a half apologetic smile on her lips. He understood. She was suppose to kick him out when he got too drunk, but the man had probably given them some more money if they kept the drinks coming. She didn't make enough to say no to someone like a Jojo.

«I'm sorry for my brothers attitude, Claire,» he told her.

«Man, no. Her name is Blossom, not Claire. She got you real good, bro. You totally fell for it, bro. But not the Butch. The Butch is the almighty know it all. Doesn't matter how good of a liar one is, the Butch sees it, and he knows it. Just try lying to me, I know. I know, man.» He pointed around with a unsteady finger as he was talking, such a silly, happy smile on his lips.

«When one starts talking about oneself in third person, it's about time to get home to the bed and get some sleep. Don't you agree, Blossom?» Blaster was having a hard time not laughing while talking.

«Oh, that sounds like a really good advice, almighty Butch.» She was mocking, but the boy got all sucker and giggly like a school girl.

«Bro,» he pushed at his shoulder, obviously talking way too loud to be whispering in his ear. «Bro, she thinks I'm almighty. My chances of tapping that just increased to three hundred percent.»

«Three hundred, huh?» Blaster shared a look with the redhead, and she had to turn away not to laugh up in his brothers face. He could support that thought. It was getting really painful to keep his face in check and not burst out laughing himself.

«I think your chances of hitting the bed is about three hundred percentage.»

«Bed?» He tasted the word, as if it was new and very juicy. Blaster could hear his brain working on full to comprehend what it meant. When he did, his face brightened up. «Ah, man. Bro, man. That's one good thought. Bed, yes. Wanking myself to sleep, having great dreams, waking up to a raging boner and wank again. Bro, that sounds wonderful. But the lady has to come, because Brick said three hundred percentage means it has to happen at a hundred, no excuse, and with three hundred, it's like three times as much, so it has to happen three times.»

«I think Blossom has too much work to be following you home, Butch,» Blaster glanced over at her, and she nodded her head.

«But it's three hundred, bro. Three hundred, it has to happen.»

«What about next time?» she said with her silky voice, coming to his rescue. Again, Butch was lost in thoughts before a silly grin broke out on his lips.

«Next time, yes. That would be good. We'll do it next time. I'll be sure to give you a really good ride in every hole you-»

«Okey, that's enough,» Blaster felt awkward for listening to his brother sexually assaulting his bartender. He could be really dumb at times. Throwing the brunette's arm over his shoulder, he steadied him on the way out. The bartender giggled and waved them off, his brother acting like a love sick moron waved like a cartoon character.

As the cold air hit them, it must have done wonders for Butch, because he stood steadily on his feet and glanced up at the round, glowing moon. The stutter was gone as he talked.

«She really pisses me off, but I'm going to find her. Just you wait and see.»

«Who?» Blaster asked, confused. His brother was talking to the Blossom chick the whole night, and he certainly didn't need to find her. Was there a new person in his life, an old one that had fled from him? The brunette didn't blame anyone from running away from he brute. He was too much to handle, even for his brothers to times.

«I don't know her name, man. I saw her at the dumpster the other, never seen her before in my life. She's really strong, beat the crap out of my balls. Such a cheep shot. I was going to kill her originally, but now I'm gonna fuck her so hard she's going to break-» and there it was, the endless stream of words turned to a gross waterfall of puke. Blaster barely managed to move out of the way before it hit the ground.

He didn't say anything else as Blaster flew him home. He was quite like a sleeping baby, or a coma patient. It made his job a lot easier, throwing him on the king size bed. It was a hassle to take care of these morons, and frankly, Boomer was the only one who kept out of any problems. The green and red ruff were always up to no good and even when they didn't know it themselves, they were in cahoot.

«Fuck you, little flower,» Butch suddenly said, as he rolled around and kicked off his clothes. All of his clothes. The brunette wanted to just leave, but he stayed until he was safely under the covers. It didn't seem like he was conscious. Sleep talking? Who was the girl he was talking about? She was in the aim of Butch's wrath, and it was going to be another body the brunette needed to dispose off.

He quickly returned to his own room, the glow of the sun at the far distant in his window. Hopefully, Mojo wouldn't need him to do anything for a couple of days, and he would have time to both rest up, and sneak around. He felt bad for going behind his father's back, but Blaster needed to know.

Whatever was in that dungeon, it was calling for him.

* * *

The brunette slept so long he was confused when he awoke. He didn't know where he was at first, glancing around the place, before remembering. The sun was already high up in the sky, and he stared at the clock on the wall. It was three in the afternoon. How could he had been allowed so much sleep? This hadn't happened in several months.

Carefully, he got up and kicked the clothes on the floor. His hoodie from the day before, pants, and would you look at that? A pair of boxers. No wonder he felt a breeze where the sun never shines. Must be influence from his brother. Blaster normally slept with his underwear and a t-shirt. Fondling around in his closet, he threw some of the fresh clothes on the floor. Mostly because he was sick of the same, dull colors and patterns, but also to let the maids have something to do. They cleaned everything, and the boys were barely able to brush their teeth by them selves. Butch was still making some of them do it just for the fun.

Brick was probably the first to beak off from the maids. He even had a period where he cleaned things himself. A sting in her chest. It had all been Berserk's doing. She had changed his brother away from becoming a Mojo Jr. and into his own grown up. He was fair toward everyone and hard working. Someone to look up to. It didn't last long thanks to Blaster.

He slammed the closet door, at the same time as one of the maids came rushing through his door. She was so busy with her work from the second she stepped in, she didn't notice him until she had her arms full of his clothes and stood face to face with the naked man.

The woman, in her midst of twenties, a very quiet and dutiful brunette, screamed at the sight before apologizing and storming out. Blaster rose a hand to stop her, telling her it was quite all right and it was all his fault, but she was gone before he could mutter the first word. Shrugging, he picket a random shirt from the floor and a black boxer, together with the jeans from yesterday.

The hallway felt lonely. He had spent several hours there, standing guard and making sure his brothers were doing alright. So many hours wasted, so many scary and sad thoughts. He came to a halt in front of the blue door and knocked once. If Boomer was home, he wanted to his brother to accompany him down for dinner. His stomach was raging and wriggling around.

Shuffling, whispers, feet running back and forth, before the door went up. The blond was damp in the hair, probably just came out from the shower. The gap was barely big enough for his head to bob out. Suspicious behavior.

«B-Blaster? You're home already?» he glanced nervously behind himself before shutting the door even further close. The blond was acting odd indeed.

«Boomer,» he said, a habit he had picked up from their father. He was big on greeting everyone with their names, making sure they knew he was addressing them. «Yeah. I was wondering if you'd like to-» rusting around from the inside had him try to peak over his brothers shoulder. Did he have company? Was it a lady? A slick smirk came upon his mouth.

«Or maybe you'd like to keep your friend company instead.» A look of dread came upon the blonds face. Ouch, the brunette thought. It looked like he had just kicked his puppy.

«Y-you know?» he swallowed after the hard stutter. Maybe it wasn't a lady, but a male friend instead. Never took him for swinging that way, but the brunette didn't judge. Everyone had their own preference and he wasn't going to stop him.

«It's fine. I won't tell Butch you're having company. Your friend can join us for dinner if you'd like.»

«No,» he practically screamed the words, a hand reaching out. As if he was physically trying to stop him. No need for that, the brunette wasn't going to drag them down. He was perfectly capable of eating on his own.

«Calm down, Boom. It was just a friendly suggestion. If you'd rather stay up here and have buttsex all day, be my guest,» the man snorted and went off. It was probably something the green ruff would have said, but Boomer's mistrust in him and weird behavior was starting to get on his nerves. The blond male glanced back and forth, so uncertain. Making up his mind, he closed the door. Blaster could hear him running around, muttering words before coming after him down the stairs. Luckily for him, only Brick had a soundproof room. It was due to his lack of sleep and also the screaming he wasn't going to tell everyone.

«I'll join you, but my friend can't.» The blond man giggled.

«Works for me,» a shrug of the shoulders.

The kitchen was heated up, maids running back and forth while preparing. They had orders to have hot food prepared at every time as long as there was daylight, in case the brothers had different eating schedules and had access at all times. They used to share dinner, but Butch was awful at eating out, Brick was terrible at skipping, and Mojo was rarely anywhere in sight when it wasn't business. As predicted, the green man was probably still sleeping, and the redhead – well, who knew? He could be half way to China, and nobody would ever know before he was back. The only one who dared to knock on his door, let alone enter, was a handful of the maids and Blaster. Mojo never ventured to the second floor unless it was something he really needed.

«Did you hear a loud bang yesterday?» Blaster asked, taking a seat at the table. He was curious why nobody had reacted. He had expected Mojo to be tapping his foot on the floor when he had come home with Butch, but no one had been in sight.

«Bang? Not that I can remember, but I was so tired I practically fainted in my bed yesterday. Why?» The purple eyed male couldn't tell the blond he had broken a rule and gone against Mojo. Or maybe he could. Maybe he could take Boomer with him on the treasure hunt. Of course, some of the details must be scrapped, but he would live.

«Just wondering. Do you remember the maze in the dungeon?» The maids were far too busy to listen to their chattering, and they would probably be fired if they dared to talk about any of what they heard. Boomer choked on his own breath, glancing back and forth. There was no need, because no one were around.

«We said we weren't going to ever talk about that again. Besides, the place is creepy.»

«Are you still mad about the rat?» A flash of a toothy grin.

«For crying out loud. I'll never live past that one. No, it's not about the rat. The whole place is so weird. I remember it was foggy and everywhere you went, it felt like you were standing on one place.» Maybe taking Butch with him would be better. Probably not. The brute couldn't keep his mouth shut, and this was a mission of stealth. Boomer was the most agile and fastest of them. Besides, he was better at keeping secrets.

«It's enchanted with powerful magic. The walls move as you progress, making it hard to get to the end.» If there was something the blond was a sucker for, it was adventures. Because they were the youngest, they had stuck together and done a lot in each others company. At one point in their growth, they could tell what the other was thinking, just by staring at their expression.

The brunette had something in common with all of the brothers, and they had been the best of friends. They would still be had he not screwed up with the redhead.

«What do you suppose is at the end?» he asked, leaning closer over the table. One of the maids came rushing with pots and pans, butter and knives. She was smiling at them, red in the face. Blaster took notice. It was the same that had barged in to his room this morning. My, my. Her embarrassing face was quite cute. Curly hair in a high ponytail on her head, smooth skin and warm, brown eyes.

«Anything else I can get for you, Masters?» The Butch side of him kicked in, and he wanted her to call him master in another room. Maybe with a bed, some chains, blindfold. Didn't exactly need a bed either. Picking himself together, he wiped the drool with the back of his hand and gestured her off. He was too close to telling her to come by his room later on. Dangerous area. Mojo wasn't very pleased with the boys seducing his maids, and had hired butler's for a while back for a whole month. They were quite boring, both in behavior and looks, and Butch had complained none stop until the girls were back. They all had to swear to only look and not touch. For Boomer and Brick, it had been no worries.

The blond guy was head over heals for the princess type. Those with fancy dresses, well manered and smiled a lot. The gentle and fragile type who fainted at the sight of insects. Brick didn't care for ladies after having his heart broken. The problem was him and Butch. They were horrible at pulling their skirts, embracing them and whisper sweet nothings in their ears. Disturbing them from doing their work. Undone work made Mojo cranky.

«I have no idea what is at the end,» his purple eyes gleamed with excitement. He wanted to know so badly he could barely eat. «Will you do it?» he asked between stuffing his mouth and satisfying his stomach.

«We'll get in trouble, again.» Shoot, and he almost had him. The blond was still so unsure after the ear full they had received the first time they had gone there. Mojo had been so furious he had locked the dungeon with chains and none pickable locks. They weren't possible to open, Butch and Blaster had tried to pick them. As the years had passed, the dungeon had become a faint memory, and he stopped locking it.

Now, the curiosity was back, and he could see that the blond wanted. He just needed a little push. A gentle one. A little white lie wouldn't hurt that much.

«It's fine. Mojo leaves it unlocked, so whatever he had that was so dangerous down there can't be there anymore. I've heard even the maids go there now and then.»

«Really?» Bingo. Consider interest peaked and goal achieved.

«Yeah, as a test of courage. The mansion is pretty big, but the dungeon is straight out of a horror movie.» Huge eyes. He was so interested he had stopped eating. Too funny, Blaster had problems stifling his laughter. Brick had changed, but Boomer was still the innocent little child. Like a prince, he had always wanted to travel and meet dragons. Silly boy, dragon's didn't exist.

«I don't want to be caught.»

«We won't be caught. We'll just be stealthy. Quick in and out, just to see what's there. If it's completely impossible to get to the other side, we'll come back.» He was careful not to use to word sneaky. Boomer didn't like breaking rules, and words like steal, trouble and sneaky was associated with that. On the other hand, he used those words on Butch to get him to do things. Cunning, like the redhead.

«Alright,» he gave in and they pushed the plates from them, signaling they were done with dinner. A maid was there straight away, swooping the plates up in her arms before darting off.

Everything went well. The blond was still in high spirit as they approached the door to the dungeon. Still high up with the nose as they walked down the cold stairs, arms swinging as they passed the creepy, old wooden doors. But the second they saw the maze, his shoulder's slumped down. His eyes crossed the nose and his teeth were clattering.

«Boom,» Blaster called out, a hand on his shoulder. The man shrieked, making the brunette jump on the spot. «We've talked about this. Ghost's doesn't exist.»

«Then what the hell do you call these freaky floating spirits?» He pointed in one of the ways, and Blaster then noticed something else. The touches stopped at the door. The whole maze was lit up by the rotating mist. It explained why it was illuminated when he had walked around there yesterday. Glancing back and forth, he still had a hard time believing he hadn't noticed the lack of torches before. Had he been that worked up?

«It's not spirits, bro. It's mist.» The blond calmed down at once. There weren't any scary faces staring back at him, any gory silhouettes or creeping sounds. And he felt stupid for the outburst. The light from the flames licked his crimson cheeks.

«Right, silly me.» Talk about adventurer. He could be scared of his own shadows at times. One of the reasons he was so found of him. The silent, kind soul that was Boomer.

«Which way should we pick?» the brunette asked. There were three of them.

«The middle one?»

«You like being the center of the sandwich?» he asked, laughter roaring through the walls. The blonde turned another shade of red, but smiled none the less. Nothing did good on tension like a good laughter.

«Shut up, man.» But they picked the middle one. They did their best, going up and down, right and left. It took them some time, but they eventually ended back at the same place. It was what the brunette had expected, but he still felt let down. The blond was puzzled.

«Maybe if we go fast enough, it won't get the chance to close the doors fast enough?» Blaster suggested. Both of them were fast, faster than normal humans. Figuring it was worth a shot, he bobbed his head. They took a running position, before taking off. They moved so fast it felt like they were flying, but by doing so, they reached the beginning even fast. The brunette cursed under his breath.

«Did you try charting where you went?»

«Uh, yeah,» he fished up the notebook from his pants. The pattern was on the first page, and the blue eyed man glanced over them. Boomer was best at solving riddles, after Brick. No one could beat the redhead at brain games. He was the perfect brainiac, with balanced strength between his brothers. Boomer was fast, and Butch was strong. Brick was both.

It would have been best to take the redhead with him down there, they would probably have been on the other side by now, but there was no way in the seventh hell he was going to do anything for him, let alone go down here for nothing. For all they knew, it could be just a creepy maze with no purpose.

«You're not getting past this point,» Boomer made a straight line at the middle. «I don't think we got past this point on our run either. Could there be something there? Maybe a secret switch?»

«Let's go again and look.» They nodded and stormed in again. Boomer took notes, to how far they got. As they got closer to the wall, they both felt restless. They didn't like the touch of the mist. It was itching, and it felt like someone was watching them from every angle.

They fondled the walls, trailing at the sides and the bottom. It was too tall to reach the top, and Blaster warned Boomer. He told him about how they had sprung to life and slammed the top of the roof to prevent him from going over. They didn't want anyone to know they were there, so no flying.

There was nothing there. Just a smooth wall and the road further. They were about to give up when Boomer shushed. He leaned closer to the wall and listened. Blaster did the same thing. First, nothing happened. They stood there like two morons, listening to the wall. All the jokes Butch would be able to make out of it. Wall whisperers, and so on.

Then a slight thumb. It was faint, but it shuddered through the wall, like a wave. They stood there, listening to it, before the blond darted off it. He was white in the face, mouth agape. Had he really seen a ghost this time?

«We have to get out of this fucking maze,» He had already started moving as he spoke, going back the way the had come. He disappeared around the corner.

«Wait, why?» The brunette ran after him. Whatever it was, the boy was scared out of his mind, and was going at full speed. They quickly reached the entrance. As he stepped out, a sound of slurping reached his ear. He glanced back, and saw that all the entrances were gone.

«Boomer, what the fuck?» Heaving for breath, he was leaning against the wall, staring at the thing with real fear. It had been some time sins he had ever seen that look on any of the Jojo's.

«That thing is not enchanted. It's fucking alive. The thing we heard was a heartbeat.» And Blaster understood the horror the blond had felt. It explained everything. The odd mist and the slurping sound at the end. They had just used up their last entrance.

«Holy shit.»

«Amen.» Boomer wiped sweat off his forehead. «I'm out of here. This is fucking ridiculous. Sorry, bro.»

«Don't think about it. Thanks for coming. And please don't tell anyone we've been here.» Even though the blond returned to the surface, the brunette wasn't quite ready to give up just yet. The other end could be the stomach of that thing, but that didn't make sense. Why deny them access further if it was the stomach? It couldn't be.

He slowly went up to the wall. After knowing it was alive, he didn't exactly want to touch it. Who knew? Maybe it wasn't used to people getting away, and would gobble him up at the slightest chance. Would his strength hold?

Blaster had yet to encounter something stronger than himself, other than his brothers. He could crush buildings with his hands, shoot laser beams out of his eyes. He could fucking fly, but whatever this was, it wasn't like anything he had ever encountered. It wasn't of this world.

Stepping away from it, he glanced around. How would Mojo get across? What would Mojo do? What would Brick do? Did his father carry something that allowed him access across? And what would it be? Something he carried? Something from around there?

A spiderweb was on the corner of the entrance. Pebbles and dust lay everywhere, and he was frankly not found of the thought of searching the ground. What if he picked up something slimy, or a bone? Gross.

Could there be something on the walls? Roaming around, he touched a loose stone. Aha! Finally something that could help him. He removed it and jumped back as a rat squeaked him in the face. It was probably angry at him for ruining it's sleep and home. The critter run down the wall and off around a corner. Calming his raging heart, he licked his lips before sticking his hand inside the hole.

«Please don't be a mouth, please don't be a mouth,» he chanted as his finger reached the end and he was greeted with nothingness. There was nothing inside the wall, no matter how he pushed or pulled. Just a hole.

Growling, he withdrew his dusty hand and pushed the rock back in place. There was no exit, so how the rat had managed to survive or get in there, he had no idea. Maybe it was just another sneaky bastard.

Going back to square one, he leaned against the wall, hoping it wasn't a part of the maze and ate him whole. What would Brick do? He had used up every chance at exploring the maze, and he had searched walls around here. There was nothing else around that could help him.

Ready to give up, he sighed and went back into the hall. It was lighter there, and he stopped to stare at the flame. _Sometimes, the best answer is the simplest._ He could remember the time Brick had told him that, solving a very difficult puzzle in such a simple way, no one would think about it.

It was a long shot, but he had to try. The brunette darted back into the room and grabbed the torch on the wall. It slid out of it's hold and into his hand. If it didn't work, he would have tried everything, and give up. If it didn't work, he would go straight back up and forget this place. Please, let it work.

Like a hero, he puffed his chest and stepped forward, torch in front of his face. Nothing happened as he approached, but on the last meter, the wall grumbled and buckled. It split apart and displayed a road. It seemed to melt away and leave the mist behind. The fog rose up and around him. If Boomer was still there, he was sure going to scream bloody murderer and call these ghosts, for Blaster felt like that was the truth himself.

Faceless heads turned his way, but kept their distance. As long as the torch held, he was going to be alright, right? Right? Hoping for the best, he strolled down the path. He didn't dare avert from it. Anything could be waiting around the corner, and he wasn't going to give up.

It had worked. He was one step closer to knowing the truth. Blaster didn't dare run, so getting across took it's time. As the end of it reached, he jumped the last way, glancing back. Several, popped eyes stared at him from the mist. They were bloodshot, black, enormous pupils. Dried, rotten hands hovered in the air. They twitched in a pulsating way. Would they attack if he had left the path? The torch had gone out? It was a horrible thought. He felt a shiver of death down his spine as they withdrew into the mist and disappeared.

That was going to give him nightmares for years to come, he concluded and proceeded forward. The only thing he could wish for now, was that it would hold on the way back too.

Darkness was thick there. The mist wasn't illuminating anything and the only sorce of light was from him. Waving it around, he finally reached something. It was a grid of metal. It reminded him of a prison cell. There was nothing else around, but walls leading back to the terror maze.

Holding the light further up, he stared inside, careful to keep his distance in case something came rushing forward. Who could be important enough for his father to keep down there? Trapped like this, with even something like that as a watchdog.

Moving the torch back and forth, he finally saw something. Long, dark hair surrounded the figure. It was hanging from the ceiling by the hands. At least, he thought it was hands. Hard to think straight after the nightmare fuel back there. The prisoner was skinny, bone sticking out from the thin dermis. It looked dry and cracked. Covered in mud and dirt. The stench was horrible, like feces, pee and rotting eggs. His firth thought was that it was a corpse. A hung up corpse.

Slowly, the head rose. Tired, weak eyes stared at him. The mouth was sewn shut, but a whimper escaped. By the sound of it, he thought it was a girl, but wasn't sure. Touching the bars, he felt it sting on his skin. Pulling back, a red mark was left there. What kind of metal burned his skin, he wondered.

Another whimper. The pain was so obvious, he felt like gagging. He killed so many people. Mothers, fathers, children, elderly. They had all been innocent and reluctant to die. Begging for their lives, or the lives of others. He hadn't spared any of them, but he still saw their horrible faces. Their dead eyes gaping at him from the grave. All of it came back to him as those eyes accused him. This was the mother load of pain and sorrow.

What had caused Mojo to put such a person here? Was she dangerous? Was it a she? He felt like it was a she. Edging the flame closer, he took a step back in shock. It was a girl, alright. But she wasn't just any girl. She had purple eyes.

* * *

Who was she? She felt like the right term to use. Where had she come from? What were she doing there? Did she have any purpose in life? Nothing changed down there. At least, it felt like a down there. It could be up here, but somewhat, down here felt like a better explanation. It was constantly cold on her skin. Was cold right? It pricked at her skin, made it stand on ends. Wasn't very pleasant either.

How long she had been there, she couldn't remember. It had always been cold, and dark. Cold, and dark. Nothing else. Wait, on occasions, she couldn't tell at what times because there was nothing to take time with, there had been someone there. Something? More like someone. The glowing torch, how she loved it. It gave her sight, it gave her warmth, it was so good.

Someone came visiting her. Was it visiting? She was stuck down there, bound to the earth, so they came to her. She couldn't go to them. Who was she again? No idea. Never been given a name. What was a name? No idea.

It had always been the same male. Was it male? Was she a male? He a male? No, she felt more like a she than a he. The one visiting, not her, was different. Or maybe she was different. Maybe that's why things were like this for her.

He, she was going to call it a he, didn't say anything. Black hair, just like hers. Did she have black hair? It was hard to say without the flame. Everything was dark here. Even light was consumed by the darkness. It chased some of the shadows away, but not all of them. He never said anything to her. She couldn't speak.

What was he doing there? Not that she knew what she was doing there. He wasn't like her. He could walk around. She was bound to the earth. Was it earth? Stone? She didn't know. The light. It was so warm. She loved the light. Filled her with joy. It was good when he visited. He didn't come often, and it only lasted for a short while before he was gone.

They never spoke. Could he speak? Don't know. She couldn't. She had tried to move her mouth, but it didn't work. It was broken. Maybe that's why she was down there. Her mouth was broken.

There had always been her and the black haired man. This wasn't the black haired man. Her heart was beating faster. Someone else. This wasn't someone like her, or what she had caught glimpses of herself from the rooted position. This wasn't the black man either. It seemed like another he. Not like her. Who was he? Who was she?

She couldn't talk. There was no way of asking, so she simply made the her whimpering sound. It was her way of communicating. It didn't sound like much, and she honestly didn't know if he could understand her. Maybe all her sounds were the same to him? So he wasn't like her. Could he talk? Open his mouth? She couldn't.

This one was different. Not like her, not like the other. He had brown hair, like the dirt under her. She had seen glimpses of the dirt a couple of times with help from the light. Had he taken a bath in it? Silly him. Maybe not so silly. He was different from her. Or was she different from him? Was he normal?

Not just that, but his eyes. They were a new color she hadn't seen before. Did such a color really exist. She loved it already. Another whimper. She wanted to tell him she liked the color. He didn't understand. How could he understand? They were nothing like.

The regular he whom had visited usually smiled. It was a flick of the lips, just upwards. Somewhat, he was happy to see her too. They had mutual feelings. This one, he didn't smile. His lips were pulled down, and she didn't know why. Wasn't he happy to see her?

Maybe he didn't like her. It wasn't very nice. She liked him, and had clearly told him so, but he didn't like her. Did she look that bad? She didn't know. Never seen herself other than from the hanging position.

«Hello?» It was the first time she had heard someone talk. Was it talking? She didn't know. It felt like the right word. Couldn't trust herself. She was a no one. Not even a name. Just a she. It was dark, and loud. She wasn't used to talking. Who was she?

It wasn't her first time hearing other vibrating sounds. There were others here too, those who were in front of her. She had seen them, with huge eyes and dark pupils. They weren't like the visitors. They didn't have a face, just eyes. And hands. Did she have hands? She thought so. But they were planted in the spoil, so she couldn't move them. It was just how she was. Like they didn't have a body, she couldn't move nor talk.

But they whispered. It was low, but she could hear them. They said very peculiar things. The wall that protected her didn't talk. The one that was there when the mist wasn't free. The pulsating was loud enough to be it's voice. Her body could pulsate too. She could feel it from time to time. Sometimes, it was strong, other times it was weak.

She felt like the wall, but not like the floating eyes. They could talk, even though they didn't have a mouth. They never smiled. She didn't know if they liked to stare at her. Were they staring at her? Not way of knowing, it felt like they saw everything.

He had a different way of talking. It was louder than anything else, but not unpleasant. She liked everything about him. He had a different color she had never seen. Was it a gift for her? But he didn't seem happy to see her. Was he waiting for her to respond? She couldn't talk. Why? She didn't know. She just couldn't. Who was she?

«Shit. Did Mojo do this to you?» It was another question. She didn't know. What was a Mojo? Do what to her? She was born this way. Had always been this way. She couldn't talk. He would never get his response. Another whimper. Did he understand?

«Your mouth is stitched shut, looks painful.» Stitched? What did he mean? She was born this way. Always been this way. Was it painful? Her tongue found the closed gap. It did hurt. It always hurt when she touched it, so she didn't touch it much.

«Fuck this bar. What kind of metal can hurt a ruff?» Was that was he was? A ruff? Sounded cute. She liked him. His voice was nice, and he had pretty eyes. Was she allowed to like him, the ruff? What was she? Was she also a ruff? She couldn't speak. She didn't have hair like him. She wasn't like him. She wasn't a ruff. The conclusion made her sad. She wanted to be a ruff. He could talk. He was pretty.

Hissing away, he gripped at the bar, and suddenly her door was open. She felt odd. It had never been open before. Could the eyes come in here? Would she get company. He stepped closer, and suddenly she felt shy. She wasn't pretty like him. She didn't want him to look at her. Whimper upon whimper.

«It's okey,» he said. The voice wasn't as loud as first time. The tone was lower, he was closer. Those eyes. She really liked them. If only he could stay forever. Talk to her. She couldn't talk, so he could talk. But she could listen. Listen to him talk. Who was she? She didn't know.

Who was he? He was a ruff.

* * *

So sorry for the late update and weirdness of this chapter. I'm currently working on writing a book I really want to publish (yes, I want to be an author.) so the updates are really slow. Hope this made up for some of the wait. Thank you so much for reading, everyone. Until next time.


	5. Chapter 5

**A three-green-ways**

The raging headache was enough to make the green ruff smash his night stand. Whomever was stupid enough to place an alarm clock there was going to get a dick up their ass, being spun around with it still in, then kicked to fucking Jupiter. The sound alarmed again, and he rolled over and smashed the other nightstand. Who the fuck did they think they were, playing pranks like this. No one played pranks on Butch. He was the prankster. He played pranks, the rest could go fuck themselves. Scratch that, he'd fuck them for them and then dump them in the trash.

The alarm didn't stop, making him crankier. Who the fuck had hid the darn alarm clock? Glancing through his bangs, the light hit his sensitive eyes, making the headache even worse. Growling in frustration, he tossed and turned. Maybe if he ignored the unholy sound, it would give up and leave him alone. Surely enough, it haltered. Giggling in triumph, he covered his head with the blanket. It was too much light in the room to sleep otherwise. Just as he was about to slip back into the pleasantry known as dreams, the beeping was back.

Deciding the silent treatment was the perfect solution, he waited for it to stop. A vein popped on his head, he was trying so hard not to go nuclear with every annoying tick.

He barely lasted half a minute before exploding. Jumping out of his bed, the man cursed every single person he knew, condemned all the gods – which wasn't many, considering he could count them on one hand – and made up some new, very colorful expressions at the same time.

There wasn't any sight of any alarm clock, but he managed to locate the sound. It was coming from under his bed. In a wild tantrum, he flipped the poor furniture over with a loud crash and was ready to murder the source. Butch wouldn't have cared what the reason his phone was giving him to get allowance to disturb his very much needed rest, had it not been for the caller ID.

After a week of searching with blind ends at every turn, and wasted knowledge of every single bit of the forsaken junkyard, he had hired a private detective. The man, in his mid forties and a reputation of nearly hundred percentage's success rate with his cases, had been rather skeptical at the little information the green Jojo had given him. There wasn't much to go on, besides her looks, and even that was shallow. They had met for what, barely ten minutes of a fist fight before she had disappeared like Cinderella at the bell back to her clock tower. Because she did have a hump in real life and was just pretty because of magic.

Was she tall? Skinny? Any specific features to go after? An accent? Where did she live, what did she do for a living? Face, hair, eyes?

She wasn't very tall, maybe on the average. The woman had been there so quickly, then had suddenly been gone, he couldn't be sure. Did she reach his abdomen, or his shoulders? Something in between, he believed. From what he could tell, she had been normal weight, maybe on the light side. He had underestimated her at first glance, but she knew how to throw her punches. Features? Dark hair and lime green eyes. No way he could forget her eyes. Hair reached the shoulders, or maybe a little over. It swayed in the wind when she had walked.

Spoke like any other resident of the dump. Not very well mannered, but not quite brainless either. Her speaking was mediocre. Nothing much to take note about. He didn't know where she lived, and only knew she was one of society's outcast.

The male had been very skeptical about finding such a person. Could he sit down with a sketch so they had something to go after? Butch had given it his all, but no matter how he had stared at it, it didn't come out quite right. The mouth seemed awkward, her cheek's were perkier, no, not so much, the eyes weren't far enough apart, go back, that was too much. It had taken them hours to get something half working, and even then the green ruff hadn't been happy about it. He did ask for a copy of it, however.

The brute had been drunk for the last week, waiting for any kind of progress in the well paid case. Gone to parties, flirted with girls and swam in booze. It wasn't good enough for him. Every girl he got to bed, he threw aside or left hanging in the middle of their sexy time. None of them did him justice, and all he could think about was the dark, short hair, those full lips and the lime green eyes that pierced his soul and filled him with lust. It was just as frustrating for him as it were for the ladies.

He would stare at the drawing every day, noticing how every detail was wrong. It could be his memory playing tricks on him, because one day he thought her eyebrows were too close together, and the next they felt too far apart. It was killing him, not knowing what was right.

As long as he didn't get satisfaction, the brute was extremely easy to agitate. The brother's felt like they were walking on glass around him, and he would flip out for no real reason at any given time. He had trashed his room at least twice a day in anger and impatience. Maids ran right and left, getting out of his way while trying to do their job. He didn't like waiting, that was Brick's specialty. The brunette needed things to happen. Bang, bang, bang, that fast, if possibly faster.

There were days Butch wanted to go back to the time he had taken over the damn dumpster place and done nothing. He shouldn't have been there, shouldn't have found it interesting and just left. It was a fucking dumpster, what the hell had he been thinking? Right, the hot piece of ass in the mini shorts, half of the deliciousness sticking out. If he could've just kept it in his pants and left for another treat, he wouldn't have ran into that flower.

He wouldn't have met her, it wouldn't have bothered him, and fucked up his life like this. All he could think about, was her. Butch had spent so much time at the place he practically smelled like garbage himself. No matter how he locked, how many cars he flipped over and secret switched he searched for, it stayed an abandoned trash dump. No life sign other than the base he had taken over and two others of zero significance. The only thing he had learned from them – after threatening to rip out every single one's guts – was that her base was supposedly resting in the west side.

Someone had to be lying. He had searched himself blue in the face in the west region, without finding her, nor anything resembling a base. After all the waiting and searching that felt like an eternity for him, they had finally found something. Taking a deep breath, pushing his hair back, he answered the call.

«Yeah?» Playing it cool, the man glanced at the mirror on the wall, flexing at himself. _Looking good there, Bro_.

«We've found her.»

«About fucking time,» he let his breath out at the same time, rushing the sentence.

«Don't get your hopes up too much.»

«What?» They'd found her, so what was the fucking problem? Ah, man. She was ugly, wasn't she? Fat? He'd been hallucinating when they had met. After all, the woman with the beautiful ass had given him some sort of home made ecstasy to increase the sex experience. He hadn't been that fucking high, had he? Shit, fuck, and balls.

«Just come down here, and you'll see for yourself.» And the man hung up without any further explanation. No, Butch didn't want to go there anymore. What the fuck kind of monster had they picked up on the streets? He didn't want to know. Fuck him and his curiosity.

Groaning, he rumbled around the clothes on the floor, totally ignoring his third wrecked bed this week. With the pants half way up his thigh's and the t-shirt with 'I'm awesome, fucking deal with it' over his stomach, one of the maids came rushing in. She looked around the trashed room, and sighed loudly. It was almost worth it. If it hadn't been for the bad new's, he would've thrown in a joke too, just for her.

«Just get another bed before nightfall,» he commanded, and she bowed her head as he passed. He was dragging his feet loudly down the stairs in a displeased way, complaining loudly, hoping anyone would ask, giving him a reason to pound their face's in. Fucking deserved if they stuck their noses where it didn't belong, and a stress reliever at the same time. None were around, making him escalate his whining to a complete shout of dread. The girls pretended they were too busy with their jobs to give him any attention.

 _Fucking sluts_ , he snarled and stomped toward the outer door. Flipping his leather jacket over his shoulders, boots in place, he took to the sky.

Granted, he was acting like a pussy; dragging out the time flying there in the sky and being reluctant to find out what was going on. Fuck, if he'd just told him, or better yet, not told him there were bad news, he would have been done with this shit a long time ago. He could've been back home, or at a bar, getting some action for the first time in two weeks.

Butch was so nervous, it took him five minutes of walking up and down the stairs in front of 'Townsvill's Detective Intelligence' and arguing with himself whether to go or not, before he stepped through the door. Even then, he wasn't sure. He could turn back at any given time, never find out, and keep wanking to his imagination. That could work. He'd be pleased with that.

An image of a fat woman with too much makeup, lime green eyes and an ugly bob hairstyle popped up in his head, making the man gag. The thought was so fucking disgusting he turned and slammed his head on the door. Crushing the entrance and earning a boo boo, he pulled his shit together and down the corridor.

He had no idea how sweaty he was before he jumped at the voice of the investigator. Nervous was a new word in his vocabulary. Fuck him. Butch never got nervous for anything. He fucked bitches and lived the sweet life. If she was fat, he'd just move on. No big deal.

«There you are. Took you long enough, Mr. Jojo. She's been asking what she did wrong and who you are and we'd have to make some sort of shitty excuse to keep her here all this time. Should've answered your phone faster. I even had to run down to the coffee shop and getting her an extra sugar and cream coffee. This thing could probably give you diabetes with just one sip. Weirdest thing I've ever heard about. Would you like one as well?» he had two cups in his hands, one marked brunette, the other with the name Mark.

«Coffee. Sounds great.»

«Then fucking get one yourself.» He had bag's under his eyes, probably worked like crazy to find her, the man named Mark took a sip of his cup. People who talked back to him had guts, and the ruff could support that. Unless they were little shit's he couldn't even stomach. Pulling his balls out of his ass, the green ruff decided it was about time to meet the beasty. The older man could tell the ruff was not his normally cocky self, and waved for him to follow. Better get this over with quickly.

«Sins we didn't have a name to go after or any address, it took some time to track her down. I even had to get access to surveillance cameras in the junkyard, but it was a dead end. Even had to pull inn a couple of colleagues to go through all of them. Had you come to us earlier, it would have given me less work and stuff to go over. As I was saying, none with your description came or went from the place. We even checked weeks before your encounter.» He took a long sip of his dark desire. It worked wonders for his wrinkles, the thin lips twitching slightly upward.

He lead him in to a small room, a glass wall was the only source of light. A woman was sitting in the other room, glancing boringly around. Butch felt his heart skip a beat. There she was, the girl from the fight. A smile erupted on his face, and he let out a sigh. No double ten sighs, no ugly, thick makeup, and the hairstyle was certainly not a bob.

Something was amiss, however. She didn't have the Cleopatra, natural straight hair. Her's was short and stood on ends. Her eyes weren't lime, but more emerald. It wasn't much of a difference to take notice of in the first place, yet he did. A harsh eyeliner around her eyes and thick mascara, but it only made her eyes bigger. Spotting a pine tank top and leather jacket, she had military pants and spiky boots. Besides the dramatic change of looks, he had to admit it was the same girl.

«Her name is Brute Platonium. Quite odd a name, but she doesn't have a real home, so there's a match. I'm sorry to tell you, but this is not the girl you met. It can't be.»

«They're the same. Brute is the girl. I'd recognize her among a thousands, no, a million girls,» he insisted. Shaken in his feet, he wanted to rush in there and have a closer look. The elderly man sighed.

«I didn't feel like going through every single camera in the city to try to get a glimpse of this girl, so I ran a facial recognition. It came up after a couple of hours, and I'm telling you this can't be the girl you meet. Brute Platonium has been in prison for several years, not seen the day's light her whole imprisonment before now. The authority is already impatient and want her back. This whole building is secured with over fifty cops, ready to take action if she even as much flinches the wrong way.» Butch understood what he said, but his brain had a hard time processing what it was he was actually saying. This was the girl, but it wasn't the girl. They were the same, but not? Joke wasn't even funny in his eyes.

«What the hell are you talking about?»

«Brute is the girl you described, even I can see the resemblance from the drawing, but it can't be her. We have video footage placing her in the prison at the time you meet.»

«Does she have a sister?» he asked, glancing back at the girl. This was the girl, no mistaking. Ignore the eye color, he could be wrong about it. He had been high, both on sex and ecstasy, and was probably not thinking straight after she had punched him in the belly. Had it even been day? He wasn't sure anymore.

«Not registered. I'm sorry to tell you, Mr. Jojo, but this is not her. I ran another search after the hit, but no one convicted matched the drawing. Took some time to convince them to let you see her, but you know. You're a Jojo.» He did know. Used the name to his advantage every single day. A sinister thought popped in his head. Maybe they didn't know about her having a sister, but maybe, just maybe, she knew and never told anyone. The chances were slim, but he had to try. It wasn't like he was giving up after all this time. Wait two weeks then drop it? Pff, he was Butch fucking Jojo.

«I want to talk to her,» he demanded. That's right, he never asked for permission to do anything; if he wanted anything, it was handed to him on a silver plate. Mark muttered under his breath before gesturing. Even though he liked to think so, the silver streaked man couldn't prevent him from going in there. The man practically ran in to the next room. Something was for sure, Mark didn't get paid enough for this shit.

Out of every fantasy of meeting the girl that had flatly rejected him, he didn't expect her to snort. Moan with pleasure at the sight of him, scream bloody murderer, or even run away like a shy girly, sure, but never ever snort.

«Where's my coffee?» Her voice was darker, and it didn't seem like she recognized him. Maybe this wasn't the girl? But her mouth, nose, chin; everything he remembered. Her figure was everything he had dreamed. Only wet dreams, though. Besides from the imagined parts, she had the exact same physics. Everything in him screamed this was her.

«I'm not here to give you your coffee. I'm Butch Jojo.» Her perfectly drawn eyebrow went up.

«Who?» A red hue crept upon his cheeks. How the hell couldn't she know? The girl presumably just like her didn't know, and now this copy of that dream girl didn't know. They were both living under rocks. God damn it all to fucking hell. Everyone knew who he was. Girls threw themselves at him by just seeing him, he was offered free drink by strangers and people he couldn't remember talked to him straight out of thin air, as if they'd been best friends for ages. How the fuck couldn't she know. Their ignorance was crushing his patience.

«Ah,» she interrupted his train of raging thoughts. «You're the guy who asked to see me. So, what the fuck do you want?» Feisty, he loved that. Straight to the point, also a plus.

«Do you have a sister?» Both eyebrows went up, and she licked her lower lip in a deep laughter. He was starting to have naughty thoughts, when she struck him down like lightning.

«Are you fucking retarded? You're pulling me out of the prison with the fucking highest security in the whole world just to ask me something that stupid? What the literal fuck?» The cockiness in her voice was such a turn on and off at the same time. He loved being talked dirty to and a girl with a bad mouth, but the bitch was insulting him at the same time. And not in a very sexy way. What he hated the most, was being ridiculed.

He slammed his fist on the table, breaking it. She pulled back in her chair at the strength, staring wide eyed at him. His green eyes were on fire, so ready to snap her ignorant neck. What were with these girls, ignoring his existence. Didn't they know what he was capable of? He'd show them. First, he would fuck this bitch up, then he would get the other one.

Mark came blasting in, a hand on the holster. He was a steady shot, but wasn't sure where to point it. At the girl who had slipped out of her broken handcuffs, or the threatening male on the other side? Butch was ready to kill her. Mark didn't mind getting ride of Brute, but it was going to be a long case if it happened on his watch. The older man would rather just shoot Butch and write it off as defense of the prisoner. And get sued by the Jojo's afterward? Fuck. If neither were a thing, he would take it.

«Your coffee.» It seemed to break the tense atmosphere. The brunette was so puzzled at the ruff's strength, she didn't say anything as she took the cup. Didn't even glance at him. She did take notice of the mark. No name, and a pout was placed on her face.

«Aw, you skipped out on my name.»

«Couldn't exactly tell civilians it's for Brute Plutonium now, can I?»

«Suppose not,» the woman shrugged and took a sip. Licking her lips, her eyes darted back to the other male in the room. «What'cha staring at, bitch? Seeing a real woman make's the little pecker hard?» Grinning like the Cheshire cat.

«I wouldn't agitate him, Brute. Butch belongs to the Jojo's. The richest family family in town, third in the whole world. It's close to second, though. He's gotten away with murder more than once.»

«Couldn't prove it was me,» Butch grinned. What Mark said felt like flattery to him. The green ruff was proud of himself, what he had done and what he could do without any consequences. The government couldn't touch him. He couldn't be convicted. He was invincible. About time the bitch learned it.

«Did you now?» she purred. Leaning closer over the broken table to hide his semi boner, he winked at her. A look of lust and playfulness flickered in her eyes and she took another sip of the horrible coffee. He could never drink it, from the older detective's description. Both Brick and Butch had their coffee blacker than Africa, not like Boomer with his fagot tea and Blaster with his liquor. Don't get him wrong, Butch could support alcohol in everything, if it was the right one. Vodka and Whiskey was the shit. Liquor was for pussies and wimps. Fuck that bull crap.

«Tell you what,» she said, voice smoother than silk. A finger stroke along her lips, seducing him. It worked. Those dominant, green eyes, and the dark hair. If Mark wasn't in the room, he wouldn't be able to resist, and simply pushed her against the wall and had her there and then.

«If you get me out of prison, I'll help you find my sister.»

«So she is your sister,» he said in triumph. He fucking knew it. Wasn't so hard to admit that, was it? Of course it wasn't. Dumb bitch couldn't have just said so from the start.

«Don't. Brute is a liar and con artist. She doesn't know squat,» Mark glared at the convict.

«Of course I do. She has dark hair, green eyes,» her face went from the old man, to the young one, louring them in.

«Where is she?» He felt ready. The long awaited beating was so close, in fact straight around the corner. Everything he had dreamed about the last two weeks, the reason for his foul mood and spoiled fun. The woman from the dumpster was within his crushing grasp.

«Na-a. Not until I'm out of here. Can't just have you walk with the information and breaking our deal after you get what you want.»

«Butch, Brute is lying.»

«I'll do it.»

«That's enough,» Mark exited the room. «Take her back to prison. Keep her locked up tight!» His voice was angry. Butch didn't manage to shake the outstretched, smooth hand before the place was stormed by guys in war gear. Bulletproof west, automatic rifles, shades and helmets. Some even came falling down from the ceiling.

«Aw, I thought we had a deal,» Brute said with dismay. They roughly bent her arms around on her back, and she glared daggers at his dark eyes.

«We do. I'll just pay you out of prison.» Realization hit her that he was actually filthy rich, and it wasn't just something they said. The famous grin found it's way to her face.

«I'll be looking forward to it. Don't forget. I'm your only hope at finding her.» And she was gone. Butch knew. The detectives couldn't help him. They had given it their all, and if they hadn't foun her yet, they probably wouldn't. Even if they went to the junkyard and looked, they wouldn't find what he couldn't. Best thing to do now was put his money on this Brute bitch.

* * *

(This part is quite nasty, so if you're sensitive to every aspect of adult rated themes, please don't read and skip to the next line.)

Brute Plutonium was famous for what she had done, but she hadn't always been known by that name. Her birth name was Samantha Kilen. The girl had grown up in an awful home. Her mother had been a wreck from day one, saying hurtful things to the three year old to make the toddler feel bad. She was controlling, telling her there was no way she could live without her, yet break her arm in the same moment. The quiet brunette didn't tell the nice doctors it was her mother's doing as the woman was standing next to her, telling some story about how clumsy her little child was and how worried she was.

Until she was twelve, she actually believed the lies her mother fed her. How she needed her to stimulate her own pain, how causing her pain wasn't on purpose, but something meant to be. If only she could have sought help in her other parent. Unlucky for her, he was even worse.

At the age of five, she hadn't know the man in the house very much. He said little, avoiding both of them as much as possible. But as the child grew up, because more vulnerable and shut it, he took action.

Never blame the child for not understanding why what happened was wrong. Both her parents were so cruel, she didn't know any better. It was the world she was living in, but that didn't mean it didn't feel wrong. The child cried every night for several years to come as her father laughed her in the ear.

She was broken from the moment she could remember. When her mother found out, at the age of eight, that her father was touching their child, and not her, she became more violent toward the innocent.

Samantha never understood what she did wrong. Why was her mother so angry at her? Why was her father acting this way? From what she could tell, none of the other children had it this way. Why was it her? It wasn't fair.

At the age of ten, she started enjoying the pain her mother was inflicting her. Every piece of mental hurt would be numbed out from the outer pain, and at one point, she almost thanked her mother for being so shitty at her job.

Luckily, or as she thought, her mother went too far one day, hospitalizing her. The doctors were very concerned with how badly hurt the child was and how scared she was of everyone around, he wanted to take a psychic and emotional valuation. The parents were against it, pushing that there was nothing wrong and she had always been so withdrawal. The child was shy, asocial and didn't like humans. They were working on it, no need to worry.

When they got home that day, the father pulled out the gun and shot the mother in the head, straight in front of her eyes. Blood splatting all over her. It was her punishment for hurting his toy and almost reveal their perfect home. That good for nothing old hag. The corpse was buried in the back yard, Samantha's fingers bleeding from the digging.

Despite being ride of one of the problems in her life, it didn't decrease the abuse. Her father got worse, demanding inhumane things of her, the next more kinky and disgusting than the other. With her mother out of the picture, she didn't get any outburst for the pain she felt inside, so Brute started hurting herself. It had been scratching at first, but soon enough she went around with a piece of glass, taken from a broken glass bottle.

As her fourteenth birthday approached, he did the unthinkable. They were waiting when she got home from school. The hated grin upon their faces; her father and four of his friends. She was so crushed when the morning came, the girl couldn't move for the passing two days, almost starving to death on the floor. It took longer to recover from the trauma her body had experienced, considering her father still did things to her. The wounds barely closed before he was there again.

When she was well enough to get up and going, a few days passed before she heard her father talking on the phone. The girl had dropped out of school. What was the point? She couldn't keep up with class, and the other children were bullying her for being poor and looking so shabby.

They were going to do it again. Her mind broke down then and there. She wouldn't survive another attack. The man known as her father, but didn't act like a proper one, had a habit of sleeping in his chair. At night, when he was at the bottom of the alcohol bottle, she wrapped a rope around his throat, and pulled with all her might. Just like she had seen on Tv.

He squirmed around, face turning red, then blue. If he got out of it, she was sure he was going to kill her for pulling the stunt. No returning, she felt tears running down her eyes, as her muscles clenched. She didn't let go until long after he had stopped moving. She lived in the house until the food run out and the corpse was leaving an inhabitable stench.

Barely fourteen, she moved out and on to the streets. Life had only gone down from there. She scrapped for food in the dumpsters, ran from angry people, and avoided others as best she could. The night was her friend, but an enemy at the same time. Nasty people hid in the shadows, ready to strike at any given moment. It was survival of the fittest.

At the age of fifteen, she considered suicide. What was her reason for living? Samantha was broken the moment she had been born. A mere puppet in the hands of her parents. There weren't anyone for her in this world. A single tear slithered itself down her cheek, as she cut her wrists open. Scavengers would probably search her corpse, but they wouldn't find anything. She only owned what she wore.

She didn't die at the place, and ended up as one of the brutal hobos. She fought others for scraps of food, robbed stores, and even killed. By chance, she took the name Brute upon herself, because she didn't show mercy. She was the sole definition of a brute in the streets.

Irony of it was she proved to be just like her parents, twisted in actions and torturing others just for the hell of it. After having killed two kids in such a brutal way, it would be known for decades, she was captured and convicted for first degree murder in several cases; premeditated. To top it off, she was found guilty of accomplishing with her father to kill her mother, and second degree murder of her father; manslaughter. Brute pleaded guilty, a smile on her face. Little did she know but it would be the headline for several weeks to come. She'd kill them all over again, given the chance.

The system that had failed her all the years were now judging her. It was pure comedy in her eyes. Hidden in a locked cell, a brink of light finding it's way into her cozy room at meals, Brute had found peace. She had a bed to sleep on, got food every single day, and no one could reach her there. They gave her some things, like makeup and magazines. Never more than one thing at a time, however, and nothing with pointy edges she could use as weapons or to escape. The girl didn't mind. She wasn't trying to escape.

The brunette was humming, an echo of a door slamming in the distance. Footsteps were approaching and the wide smile spread on her lips. It wasn't time for dinner, so it could only mean one things. The door was unlocked, a displeased guard waiting for her at the other end. She was now giggling uncontrollably.

«Brute Platonium, someone payed your bail.» He'd come through, and it had only taken him two days. Had she known, she would have done it a long time ago. Laughter roared through the cold, empty room. If he had any idea of what she was capable of and that she had conned him, he wouldn't release her back into the streets. She had no idea who he was searching for, and luckily for her, he was easily fooled. Money enough to get her out of prison for everything she had done? Well, looked like she had her next target in view. _Thank you, imaginative sister._

* * *

Buttercup didn't know what to feel. The man known as Butch had been circling the junkyard for a whole weak, practically living there some days. He was desperately searching for her, and she had enjoyed watching him try.

There was no way he could find her. Physically impossible. When the girl had been younger, she had stumbled upon a lone house in the dump. As a child, everything seemed bigger and new, so she had gleefully wandered on great adventures, climbed the eternal skyscrapers of trash and discovered the deep tunnels of mysterious garbage. For her, it had been a magical story.

Somehow, she had tumbled a long way from home, and Ace was probably worried beyond his abnormal daddy instincts, but fear didn't settle with her before the sun was almost out of sight. That's when she had tried her best to stay strong, and trail her way back. Call it faith or destiny, but she stumbled upon something else.

A small cottage of a house, cleaner than it should be considering it's location. With her young mind, she knocked on the door. It had creaked open with protest, and a woman greeted her. She seemed to have been in her mid thirties, with long, curly hair and a face she couldn't remember afterward. At the time, she was clear and she remember seeing her smile and eyes kinder than a puppy, but every memory of her face was blurred out.

Every other aspect was clear as day, her small house with it's few furniture and her red, beautiful dress. It looked as if she was headed off to a ball, or to a fancy party. The woman had waved her inside, and Buttercup had been too young to know about stranger danger.

A cup of tea was set in front of her, as she took the chair in front of the table. The walls had been colored like a rainbow, just like in fairy tales. She had a stove and a couple of awkward cabinets, and a fireplace. The green girl remembered it the best, because it was lit with a warm flame that seemed to reach toward her, making sure every bit of frost was chased out of her body. The atmosphere was nice, and cozy.

There wasn't a bed there, but a carpet on the floor. It was fluffy. The young puff had never had a cup if tea before in her entire life, but she liked it. Despite the warmth, it didn't burn her tongue and it was sweet. Like drinkable candy. As if her smile wasn't big enough, it seemed to stretch wider.

«My name is Ms. Bellum,» she had said, voice like a summer breeze.

«I'm Buttercup,» she had introduced herself. Ace had been strict with her, telling her to be nice to other people and not use swear words. It was mostly his fault, because he didn't know how to act around children and bad language was a part of him. To his defense, he was trying his hardest to distance himself from the foul parts and scolding her into not repeating them.

«Like the flower?» A gentle smile on her lips, she leaned her chin in her palm. The child took another sip of the liquid.

«Yeah. Ace said my hair was standing on ends when he found me, reminding him of a buttercup.» Her words came easily, and the woman's encouraging looks were enough to keep her talking with confident.

«How old are you?»

«Seven, I think. Ace didn't know what age I was when he found me, but he thought it was five, and that was two years ago.» Ms. Bellum picked up the empty cup and asked if she would like another one. Buttercup happily accepted. The second cup was quickly brought to her small mouth, and she sipped. Still the best thing she had tasted in her short lifespan, before she discovered alcohol.

«I see. You're very special, do you know that?» Ms. Bellum had a serious tone, but her face didn't stop smiling. Ace had told her so several times, but she didn't feel like the words were really sincere before this redhead said them. There was a weight on them, and she felt her face falter.

«I don't think that. I don't really have a mommy and daddy. They just left me. They didn't want me, so I can't be that special.» A lump had formed in her throat and she quickly took another mouth full, to wash it away. The least she wanted was to cry in front of this kind lady.

A hand reached over the table, and two fingers fell on her chin, lifting it gently up. Their eyes met, and the brunette was surprised to still see the calm attitude. This woman she had never met before, had full faith in her, believing with all her being she was special. Buttercup had never felt special, just lucky. Blessed with good fortune to have Ace pick her up, have a home with him and the freedom this place gave her. Never truly special.

«You are, and the dangers of the future is far too close for comfort. Many will come for you, both good and evil; but mostly evil. It's important that you don't give up and stay close to the people that matter, because before you know it, they're gone. Is Ace important to you?»

«Of course he is. He's my friend,» she almost screamed, fire burning in her stomach. She took every single word to mind, feeling it fill her with confident and strength.

«That's good. Would you like to protect what you hold dear?» Buttercup was far too young to understand what it meant. How much it required of her to hold the people she cherished close, how much she had to sacrifice of herself and how far she needed to go to do just that. But she was going to keep Ace safe.

«Yes.»

«Good. You have power inside of you to achieve anything you put your mind to. I'm going to give you a little something to help along the way.» The redhead rose from her chair, turning her back and roaming through a couple of cabinets. A mumbling could be heard, as she scratched her head in search for whatever she intended to give the small girl. After a little back and fourth, she found what she was searching for.

In her hands, she had a couple of gloves. They were just her size, the girl realized as they were handed to her. Shy, because she had never received anything from a stranger before, she gently took them. The leather was soft.

«These are enchanted with magic. They will adjust to you, and only you. As you grow, so will they.»

«What do they do?» she asked, eyes bigger than planets.

«They give you strength when you're in need of it, keep you warm at night, and protects you. If you're safe, you can save everyone around you. So while you take care of them, the gloves will take care of you.» She was still so baffled with the word magic, and that she had gotten something for the first time in her life, that she only nodded.

«And they can make you invisible for anyone you want.»

«Really?» she spoke up, almost jumping in her chair from excitement.

«Everyone, yes.»

«How?» she moved them around in her fingers, feeling the soft fabric. They were so pretty, so nice, and she instantly loved them.

«Wear them, and wish for it.» Glancing between the redhead and the fingerless gloves, she quickly equipped them, tongue out of her mouth to help her balance it just right. She then wished that the pretty lady couldn't see her.

«Oh, no, where did she go?» Ms. Bellum laughed and glanced around the room. Being the little rascal she was, Buttercup quietly jumped out of her chair, snuck around the table and bumped against her with a loud 'bo'. The woman jumped in her chair and glanced down at the small child. It was the very definition of happiness upon her face.

«There you are, but I think it's about time you get back to Ace. It's getting late, and he tends to worry, right?»

«Yeah,» Buttercup confirmed. A pinch of sadness filled her, and she didn't want to leave her new friend. Her second, only friend. She liked Ace, but it was boring with just the two of them.

«Don't worry, child. We'll see each other in the future.»

«Promise?» Big puppy eyes. The girl knew how to get her way.

«Pinky promise.» The finger stretched out to her was foreign, but the ball was in her corner, and Buttercup grabbed around it with her tiny, gloved hand. She had no idea she was suppose to put her pinky there, but it was just as satisfying.

«Don't forget,» The green puff finished and the redhead promised once again, while leading her to the outer door. She stood there, waving until Buttercup turned around. There had been a question on her tongue, making her glance back, but it was gone with the wind. The house was no where to be seen, as if it had never existed.

From that day on, she had gone for a stroll around, searching for the redhead, but never found her nor the odd cabinet.

Softly touching the fabric of her worn gloves, she stared at the clouds as they passed by. Lay on top of a wrecked car, her favorite spot. It was far enough away from the house to drown out the livelihood of it, but close enough for her to quickly get to it if something happened.

As the years had gone by, she had discovered new things about the gloves. She could hide from whoever she wanted, even Ace and the man named Butch. Not only could she hide herself, but also a place, like their hideout. It was invisible to whomever she didn't want to come there.

It didn't move the place, so those who knew where it was, could still find it, but to those who didn't it would just appear as a pile of junk.

She had enjoyed watching Butch scratch his head for the last week as he had searched his ass off, trying to find them. Buttercup was also aware that he had visited other parts in search, trying to get the truth out of them, but she had been faster. They had been easy to win over; just say it lay in the east, and she would leave them alone for the next year and even help them if north attacked. The bargain had worked like a charm.

There were times she had hid in the piles, close enough to see every part of him. He had thrown a hand full of tantrums, crushing piles and thrown cars in rage. The man even had a nick for talking to himself. It had been very amusing.

He was searching for her, but she didn't want to see him. Well, she wanted to see him, because she had been out there with him all week and watched his every movement, but she didn't want him to find her. Somewhat, she felt her face redden at the sight of him, a small increase in her heartbeats.

She had kept her distance in the beginning, but got closer and closer as the week passed. Buttercup wasn't scared of fighting him, but she wanted to know what this feeling was. Why was her body reacting the way it was? Who was he? What did he want? Stupid question, he had even shouted he wanted to kill her and tried to bait her with calling her a coward and such. Didn't work, because at the end of the day, she was laughing at him.

Surely, it was rambling of a madman, because he didn't know she was there. Every time he had gotten close to the house, she would flip a car in the opposite direction, drawing him away from the rest. Ace was informed, and had banned anyone from leaving the house as long as the maniac was roaming.

At the last day, she had been walking beside him, taking in his appearance. Deep down, she was jealous of him, but would never admit it. He could fly, and she couldn't. What made him capable of doing it? How was he so strong? She really wanted to talk to him, get to know him, but by the look on his face, she knew he would just tear her head from her shoulders if she revealed herself. He could try, at least.

He was taller than her, by a head. His shoulders were broader than any she had seen before. Fuzzy had been the same, but he had also been fat. Typical hairy bear with beer tummy. This man wasn't, he was fit. With raven black hair, fuzzy eyebrows and long lashes. His eyes were green like the forst, and she easily got lost in them.

At the end of days, she would slightly bump against him. He would be too tired to do anything than look around confused, before taking to the sky with a shake of his head and head home. It had been the last time she had seen him.

Buttercup had waited the next day, and as hours had passed she first thought she had missed him and searched the junkyard. He had been nowhere to be seen for the next three days, but the girl waited, with eyes to the sky.

After a week, she had understood that he wouldn't come back. He probably had a life outside the garbage, or had grown tired of searching for her. Again, it made her uneasy, and she slightly regretted not showing himself. She could've ran around, making herself invisible and visible, playing with him like that. Maybe it would have kept him interested.

Tipping the bottle to her lips, she felt the strong moonshine warm her stomach in the cold evening. Life had suddenly got boring. After he had swooped in and taken over north, there weren't anyone to fight anymore. They wandered around like lost animals, trying with new leaders now and then. None dare be too bossy and change anything big in case the green ruff came back, so it never really turned to anything other than split.

He was never coming back, and she didn't like it. There was a longing in her to see him. Would she dare show herself? Stupid question, of course she did. Buttercup wasn't scared of anything. It was odd; she had never felt like she needed to see anyone before, besides from Ms. Bellum, but she had been a child with zero friends. That longing had been for someone to play with, but this was something else. Something unexplainable. He wasn't considered a friend of her, because they had barely exchanged any words at all and none in a very friendly manner, yet she had the insatiable desire to see him again. It didn't make any sense to her.

Another sip from the bottle. She had come a long way from the cup of tea in the house with the redhead. Ace had tried to replicate the taste she had felt, but no matter how much sugar he added or what kind of tea it was, it never tasted the same as it had back then. After countless tries, they had simply given up. Besides, it was ruining the broke man, trying to acquire different kind of tea types. The junkyard wasn't exactly the easiest place to get such a rare thing.

Fuzzy had had some, but not what she had searched for. None the less, she would still meet up and share a cup of tea with him. Turned out the man was rather talkative, and had lived a colorful life outside her stinking home. This was everything she had known, but the pinkette had seen Townsvill, the city and lived there once. It had peaked her curiosity, one of many reasons she went to meet him. She had not only done it for Robin, but also to take a peak at the outside world. It was, according to him, a large place, with scary things as tax, money and something peculiar called ice cream. He had said it with a smile on his face, before it turned sour and he told her to never go there. Whatever she felt like would be there, wasn't. Everything was broken on the out side, and not worth the effort it took to be there.

The outside. Buttercup admitted the thought was alluring to go search for the man herself, but could she leave them? She would be back, no doubt about that, but would they be safe as she was gone? She was their best fighter, and the boss none the less. Ace kept track with everything and the financiers, but she was the leader. They followed her, looked up to her, and followed her wherever she went. Would they manage without her? Ace would be able to keep everything in place if they weren't attacked. Even if north was a chaotic mess, south and west still had their leaders intact, and the slaughterer of east was known for her sneaky means. If they got a winch about the brunette being away, she would attack.

Tsk'ing, she took another large gulp, crushing the empty bottle against a microwave. Grubber was big on spare parts, and surely wouldn't forgive her for ruining a perfectly good chunk. The man wasn't very good at communicating and mostly kept to himself with his bent back, but he was a genius when it came to fixing mechanical things and inventing new, useful stuff. Last she had heard, he was helping some of the younger kids make a secret hideout among the piles, with tunnels and elevators. As long as they were happy and found something to do with their days, she was satisfied.

Everything around her was spinning, like a joyful carousel. Was there a chance she could sneak out and come back earlier the morning? Would they notice? She usually strolled around all day to have something to do, or work out at a home made training ground, so it wasn't like she stuck around anyway. A devilish thought popped up. She could, couldn't she? Head out early, be back before nightfall. It couldn't hurt, could it? Just a peak at the outside world.

«You're going, aren't you.» Buttercup jumped at the voice, glancing behind her like she had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. It was the old man, Ace, himself. He wasn't much older than her, but as long as he was, she would refer to him as old. Out of all the children on campus, he was the oldest one. Chin barely reaching the top of the hood, he placed his arms out on the sides and rested his head there, staring up at her.

«Wha- what are you talking about?»

«No use lying to me, Butters.» He rarely used the nickname, and never in the presence of others. The nick was a horror to her, and made her feel like a five year old again, but she had learned to cope with it and allowed him to use it. On rare occasions.

«I know what you're thinking before you know it yourself. It's like reading an open book. Hench making you unable to lie to me.»

«I've lied to you and gotten away with it,» she defended herself. It felt like her honor was at stake. Keeping up the appearance as a badass was a though job, but she managed. The only one that was allowed to be soft with her was Ace, the man that had know her through it all and seen everything.

«Nah, I just let it slide,» he winked over his ridiculous sunglasses. She didn't say anything to that, didn't have anything productive to add to the conversation. They stood there a few seconds and watched the sun go down.

«He's not shown for the last week, and I can tell from the look on your face that you want to know what happened. You want to go find him.»

«You're joking. I don't care for him. He's dangerous, had Fuzzy killed.»

«Fuzzy's death wasn't much of a tragedy, I can agree on that. Scumbag has had it coming for a long time now,» he grimaced, spitting as if the mere thought of the old, weird man got stuck in his mouth like a hairball. «But I know you, BC. You're interested. You want to know, need to know, because he's like you, isn't he?»

«He's strong, Ace. Like none I've ever faced before. Stronger than Fuzzy was, stronger than me. I have to know what we are.»

«I understand. Will you come back?» the puppy look made her feel guilty. There wasn't a chance in hell she wasn't coming back, but the man actually thought she was leaving them for good.

«Yeah, bet on it. Can't let east have their way, right?»

«Right. Gonna have to get in a real fight when you get back. Can't disappoint the boys, and everyone need to stretch their legs, too. Your fly boy has been a real pain to some of us, making us cope up here.»

«He's not mine,» she awkwardly turned away and felt the dark, burning hue on her cheek as Ace hoisted himself down with a laugh.

«You're free to roam around, I don't think he'll be back, and my magic will be up until i return. If anyone does leave, they're not hidden, Ace. Make sure everyone knows the risks,» she finished and could feel the man nod his head behind her back. Buttercup took a long breath of the bad smelling place. What was the town going to smell like? Surely, not like this place.

She was nervous. Every question she had, every expectation made her even more reluctant to leave. For over ten years, she hadn't known any place, and had been warned to leave. Everyone that had come from the town and ended up there, said it was better there. More quiet, peaceful, freer. It wasn't a place people wanted to be, but had to because of obligations. They didn't have such here, and lived like they wanted to. Nothing was complicated, but Buttercup needed to know.

If Butch Jojo knew anything about her, maybe even her past, she could be able to find her parents. Her real parents. Ace and the rest would always be her home, but there was something about relatives that allured her. Did she have any siblings? Uncles, aunts? Grandparents. She was so filled with energy she could barely sit still. The best part was that the old man had given her permission to leave. She could go and come as she pleased, and they would be there waiting for her to return. The brunette would return, after finding the truth.

Glancing around, she noticed a backpack to her right, where Ace had been. Had he left it there without her knowing? Curious, she took a peak inside. Canned food, extra clothes and a wallet with money. She had never owned any money on her own, because people traded in the junkyard. Ace had talked about money for import and export, but this was the first time she had touched it. Think, small paper patches and some metal coins with patterns. She also found a letter. At first glance, she noticed Ace's handwriting, but not just his. Everyone had taken their time to write a sentence.

 _BC, we'll be waiting for your return. See the world and tell me everything about it later._

 _Don't get caught up in something bad, we want you back in one peace._

 _Boss! Make sure to kick ass and make history._

 _Whatever you want when you're returning, just tell me! I'll be sure to have it ready in pots and pans._

 _I'll be sure to train a lot when you're gone, so we can have a sparing mach of the ages! Just you wait and see, I'll show you!_

 _Whatever you feel like you have to prove, you don't. You'll always be a part of our family, no matter the distance._

 _I owe my life to you. Please return soon so I can pay my debt. Eat and sleep safely._

 _The new music box will be ready for your return. I'm calling it the Mp 2.3. It stands for music player. Clever, aint I?_

 _You'll be safe, right?_

 _Everyone is worried about you and awaits your return. Stay safe, BC. You'll always have a home with us. I hope you find what you're looking for._

It was signed by everyone, bringing tears to her eyes. Geez, these guys knew where to place the feelings, didn't they. She recognized every single handwriting, and it was so typical every one of them. The last one was Ace. That old man, he could've told so himself to her face.

They were very much alike that way; neither liked to say goodbye, and avoided it like the plague. Surely, had he tried, the old man would break down crying his eyes out, and Buttercup would be right behind him at that.

It was starting to get dark, so she strapped the sack to her back and set out for one of the outer skirts. Fuzzy had once told her she needed to head west if she wanted to reach the city. Ironically, they were closer to it than any of the other clans. It took her over half an hour of walk to reach the infamous fence. For years had she walked along it, glancing at the world out there. Lights in the distance, noise of zooming cars and music from parties

Everything she knew about it, was from Ace when he had been at the end of a bottle and Fuzzy on their short short meetings. Somewhat, she owed Buch Jojo that much. Fuzzy was sure going to serve her human flesh at one point had he not broken their contract. It wasn't like she could refuse him due to their deal, and somewhat, he had saved her from the faith of knowing it could never be undone and who it was.

There was a hole in the fence, just big enough for her to squeeze out of . Clenching her jaw and balling her fists, she took a deep breath and pushed through. It felt odd the very moment her feet touched the unknown ground. Grass, green and long. It was tickling her calf and moist her pants. Rain had been in the air the last couple of days, making it grayer than usual.

For a second, she wanted to return. First of all, she didn't know the guy, and he wanted her dead. Why the hell would she go to see him? The brunette was nuts thinking anything good would come out of it, but something in her edged on. Just place your right foot in front of your left, then your left in front. Repeat.

It took her a couple of tries to pull it off, before it turned to a smooth walk. Because the area was so new to her, and she had no idea buildings could get so high, she ended up wandering back and fourth until late night. Luckily, there weren't many people around, and the few that roamed didn't pay her any mind. They were either drunk beyond themselves or just uninterested. Things were great, until she ended up in a back allie and came face to face with a group of five guys.

«Hey, you there,» one of them shouted in an angry voice. Her warning signals were screaming in her head, and for a second she was frozen in place like a dear on headlights. Should she run, or stay?

* * *

 _Uh, oh. What have that idiot Butch done? Will Buttercup find him? Exactly how dangerous is Brute? Keep reading and find out! The next chapter will go back to the blues. How are they doing? Quite good, had it not been for the element of surprise._

 _Special thanks to HelgaButtercup for always leaving a review and the tremendous support. It means to world to me. And thanks to everyone who reads and returns to this story, despite the long awating updates. You guys are awesome._


	6. Chapter 6

**Wounds of the heart**

The blue ruff was walking on glass the last passing week. For a reason he couldn't understand, his redheaded brother had given him a visit early in the morning. A morning he had spent trying to talk to the blonde known as Bubbles. Everything he had done had been in vain. She didn't talk, barely looked at him from time to time, and her body repulsed when he went in to touch. He couldn't understand how she could hate him so deeply. He had saved her from Butch, given her a home, cleaned her, handed her his expensive clothes and was trying his best to act like a prince. Nothing seemed to work. The blue boy had been at the edge of screaming, biting his nails bloody when the tapping had been there.

Needless to say, he was shocked when Brick had barged in his door, almost breaking it down. His instincts were telling him to keep Bubbles safe, and away from he rest of the household, but Brick was just so much stronger, it was hard to say no to those crimson eyes of shining death.

What weirded him out was the way his brother was acting. He practically ignored Boomer's existence – not so much there, because that was normal for them - and went straight for the girl, and what made things worse, was her reaction. The blonde looked up, and smiled. The girl hadn't even given him any sign of acknowledge all morning and here his brother was in his pants and t-shirt, looking like a run down horse, and she was flashing him one of her beautiful, rare smiles.

To top everything off, Brick asked how she was, and that dreadful chick had answered him. Her voice was sweet like an anger, and it was his first time hearing it. What the holy hell had he missed? Brick had held her by the throat last time they had seen each other, and now they were buddy buddying up to each other, as if they had been bff's for ages. What did the redhead that he didn't? He had cozied up to her all evening, talked sweet and given her everything. Absolutely everything, and she hadn't even batted an eye in her direction, let alone smiled or talked. To him, she had been a dead fish.

His head was spinning so badly from confusion he almost fell unconscious on the spot. Stuttering incomprehensible words, he gained their attention. When he did, the girl faded away. How the hell had Brick gained access to her mind, making her get down on earth? It was frustrating enough to make him want to scream even louder. There was no time to explode, as Brick had told him Blaster was home.

Boomer hadn't understood how that was relevant to the situation, but the redheaded Jojo was faster. He was up in blonds face, something like determination shining in his face. It was odd, after his brothers close off for years and distancing himself from everyone, he was somewhat resembling his old self. The blond couldn't help it; he felt jealous. Why did they have such a special bond, and what did it come of? Was there a button on her he had pushed when he had strangled her? Did she like bad boys? Was she into the abusive relationship thing?

Then his brother had told him something important. It was a matter of life and death. Blaster could never know about Bubbles. If he did, she would be killed. The blond didn't understand what it was he was trying to say, but Brick didn't elaborate. He refused to say anything else, and demanded that his younger brother promised him that the purple ruff wouldn't find out, even if it meant his life.

Imagine the blond's surprise when his other brother had knocked on the door in the middle of the day, asking for them to eat dinner together. Even asked if Bubbles would like to join them. He had panicked. It would seem suspicious to decline, but he had to keep an eye on the blonde at the same time. She had been a blank sheet, but allowed him to push her into the bathroom and out of sight. What she didn't understand, was the dangers of wandering back into the room straight away.

He had been so nervous, he had almost smacked the door in the brunette's face, clearly offending him in the process. It was at that moment he understood he couldn't decline, but he couldn't tell Blaster either. Brick would kill him. Slowly, he agreed to join him, and quickly told the blonde to stay in the room. Don't open for anyone, and keep away from the windows. She couldn't be seen. If she understood or not, he could only guess from her blank expression.

Before Boomer got to stop himself from being swept up in the moment of adventure, he found himself in Mojo's dungeon. After their last visit, he wasn't sure he had the stomach to go back there. It wasn't quite as scary as he remembered, until it suddenly turned quite creepy. Who would've known the maze was alive and wanted to eat them? Luckily for him, it gave him the chance to get away and back to the blonde.

He hadn't been able to find her at first, and the fear of having lost her was making him rush back and forth, without actually looking. Sure, he had been gone for a couple of hours, and she didn't really like him, and Brick was much better with her and she liked him more, and who was he trying to kid? The blonde was probably half way to Mexico in the arms of his oldest brother.

But she wasn't. Boomer had just been in such a hurry he didn't notice her sitting on the floor behind the bed, staring at whatever was spread around her. He had however been so happy he had almost hugged her. The girl had gone all stiff at his sudden approach, and he could feel in the tensity of her body that she was ready to attack him. They were equally as strong and fast, but she didn't hold back. Bubbles gave it her all, and she could easily break an arm if she got a hold of it. She was dangerous, and with the painful memory of their last brawl, he gave her space.

The girl had seemed to appreciate it – who knew? Hard to tell from her blank expression – and he could finally take notice of what had captured her attention. Lots and lots of pictures.

The blond had always been the artist in the family. He had touched every specter of it through his short life, and mastered them all. Be it theater, grown men had been crying at his realistic character play, music, every single instrument were open books to his disposal, writing with elegant and beautiful imaginative pictures, any type of dance he had faced had been a masterpiece. The man was a living genius when it came to art. Name anything, and he could surely do it, just better than anyone else.

His passion for drawing had started out as a photographer, but even though his pieces sold for half a million, he never felt like he could capture the prefect moment, making him move over to drawing/sketching/painting. That way he would get exactly what he had in mind, but no matter what Boomer did, every piece he did was never perfect in his eyes. There was a flaw, and it irritated him to the core that he couldn't place his finger on what. What were they missing? They were beautiful stroked, blended and shaded. Anyone who saw it, would say they were the truest of them all.

Usually, he kept his pieces in a notebook, where only he could see them and they were organized, but the blonde who currently was a resident of his room had ripped them out and scattered them across the floor. It broke his heart, made it hard to breathe for him, but at the same time did he feel a million times better. How many times had he wanted to throw away a piece that didn't satisfy him? That was bothersome to look at and a complete failure? Every single one of them. He'd wanted to rip them apart and let them fly in the north wind, watch as they were erased and became one with nature.

She hadn't destroyed them, like he had dreamt about. The blonde was just staring at them, letting her fingers touch the canvases. It didn't seem to bother her that they colored off on her skin, or that the hues mixed together in a very little fashionable way. The woman in front of him didn't see the beauty in the picture they were meant to present, the places they stood for and the attempt of recreating the atmosphere.

Bubbles saw through it all, and lived the pictures. Every single color, brush, line and blending. She took it all in, really looked at them, and that made the ruff ever so shy. Never in his life had he feared rejection about his art, because everyone told him they were perfect to all times, but now he wasn't so sure anymore. This girl saw exactly what he did, the picture perfect portrait, and she felt the feeling of them. He felt how she saw what he had tried to create, and what they were missing.

However, he could see the sparkle in her eyes. She was pleased, but she saw the flaws. She knew what was wrong with them, yet accepted them, and he wanted to know. He had desperately wanted her to share the secret, but the blonde didn't say anything when he had asked. Gone quiet and lifeless like a doll. Now he had seen two sides of her beautiful soul. The faint smile she would never show him again, and the sparkle in her eyes. He needed to see them again.

For the first passing week, everything had been for nothing. She didn't respond to him, other than being pointed toward the shower. The faintest shadow of a smile would play at the corner of her lips at those times, just a shadow of the long awaited smile, but they were never directed toward him. What Brick had received could not be repeated. What made matter worse, was whenever she saw the redheaded brother, she would brighten up, and fall down to earth. She replayed to his questions, but with short, usually one word, answers or a roll of the head.

Boomer had fetched out twenty different softness of pencils, over two hundred shades of color, and given her a blank sketch book. The girl had been reluctant at first, glancing back and forth with childlike eyes and waited for permission to even drool. He had nudged her several times, assuring her it was quite alright for her to do whatever she wanted. He had enough to color the whole town if they wanted. Perks of being rich. It was the only thing he could do to see her soul come forward, and Boomer could only watch from a far distance. The light she radiated wasn't meant for him, not even a glance of grateful for what he had offered. He wasn't in the center of her universe, but millions upon billions away, glancing with a microscope. Oh, the world was a bittersweet place. The first thing he had ever wanted for several years, and he couldn't approach without it going away. Like a strong wind on a soft flame of the candle.

Surely, it was the darkness of his soul she could sense, and that's why she pulled away from him. Why the hell was Brick purer? What made his violent, cold and heartless brother a better person? What did she see in him that he couldn't? Boomer wasn't perfect, but everyone knew Brick was worse. The redhead was dark and unfriendly, but somewhat she liked him more. What the fuck was up with that? Why? Just fucking why?

The blonde was careful in her handling, holding very loose on every piece and faintly tried the pressure. Hers were just replications if his, every single detail were straight to the point, and he felt jealous at her learning rate. She quickly picked up and at the end of each day, sketched faster than he had.

But his pictures only lasted so long, and as she had finished up the last one, she stared at the rest of the blank spaces. That's when Boomer understood she didn't have any experience with the outer world. She had been held captivated her entire life at the Dograce. Had she ever felt the brush of rain, the cold of the snow and the sun on her face, other than through his window, her dungeon? The man felt guilty for being another preserver. Maybe that's why she liked Brick more than her; he didn't hold her there against her will, and he didn't act desperate.

In the middle of the week, he had to get back to work. The day's off had been enjoyable. As she had carefully worked away, lost in the world of every color, he had taken his time to draw her. Her movements, her expressions and it filled him with an inner calm he couldn't describe. They were in black and white, but he felt a jolt in his heart when he glanced down on them. They were the first pictures to have any soul.

He had only managed to sketch three of her sides when the adult life called, and Boomer barely had the time to get dressed before Mojo came barging in. Informing some of the maids – making them promise to keep it a secret from everyone, even his father – that they needed to bring the girl food to every meal when he wasn't around, he hoped she would have her hands too full to figure out anything else to do. He was going to be in trouble up to his chin if she decided to go out of the room and wander around.

The meetings kept him busy, and he was horrified to find out his father was having an international meeting and they needed to stay over at a hotel for a couple of nights. Boomer was so nervous for Bubbles the whole flight, he could barely sit still, drank way too much, making him run to the bathroom every half hour, and stress ate peanuts. And he didn't even like peanuts.

Greeting the others present was a real pain, he could barely remember their names, let alone put a face to them. Mojo was expecting much from him, and that only made it worse. For a couple of hours, he was able to keep himself occupied and follow with the conversation, but he quickly fell out and ended up drawing circles on his papers instead.

After what seemed like a never ending travel, Mojo announced themselves as finished there. For whatever miracle, the blond had managed to pull through and keep his father happy. He seemed like a professional on the outside, but he was a major wreck on the inside, barely able to keep two similar thoughts together and mentally was gnawing his nails.

To his utter dread, it was just one of many places they were visiting. The journey had barely begun, and the blond was already homesick. He didn't want the responsibility anymore, and would rather be like Butch or maybe even Brick. Stay home and do whatever he wanted, even have a home office. It was starting to become a huge hassle, and he couldn't understand why Brick wasn't doing it. He was clearly more suitable, and had been the head a couple prior. Something majorly had happened, and he had become withdrawn, working from home.

With Butch being Butch, Boomer was the second in line to succeed Mojo's company. He never wanted to do it, but wasn't left with much of a choice. Blaster had told him he would gladly take over, but their father would have none of that. It was Brick or Boomer and no one else. He couldn't understand. His brunette brothers were perfectly capable of doing the same job; well, maybe not Butch. He was the master of wrecking, so the smart thing would be to promote Blaster. Mojo didn't like it, and his word was law.

So there he was, thousands of miles away from home, hating his life and worrying himself gray in the hair. Was she eating? Did drawing keep her company? She wouldn't be bored, would she? What if Brick did something to her. To his defense, it had been over forty hours sins he had last slept, and he was feeling overly paranoid. Maybe it was the reason they were getting along so well. Brick had snuck in the first day Boomer had been gone and taken her. Stolen what he had paid four fucking billions for.

But then again, this was Brick. He didn't care for women unless he could get something from them, and Bubbles had nothing to offer. If anything, she was a liability. The thought had him hating himself. The blonde was a sweetheart, and she was a child with a unfair background, and there he was, judging her and saying she was a nobody. Shame. Even if he didn't say it out loud, and it was in the moment, he felt shame in his soul.

A week passed with him being away, when something peculiar occurred. Mojo had let him sleep long, telling everyone to take a day off. It was abnormally nice of the man, and Boomer woke with a feeling of being watched. A cloud of unfortunate was hovering over his head, a thunder strike ready to land it's lightning in his head.

Lifting his head from the soft bed, he instinctively stared to his side. A woman, dressed in a neat, blue dress, blond, curly hair up in two pigtails with blue ribbons on them. She had fair skin and tight long stilettos. She had sapphire eyes, a shade darker than Bubble's baby blue ones. Long, dark lashes and a soft smile on her lips.

«Hello?» he questioned. It was not the first time a lady had surprised him in bed. His brothers used to pull this crap all the time, telling girls to go surprise him when he slept. It never became funny, but it looked like Mojo had taken after his brothers monkey business.

«Good morning, Boomer,» she shifted in her seat, a glimpse of her pants sticking out. He felt weird for noticing it, and took the chance to get out of bed and search for his pants. A pair of silky, business ones were the only thing he found, and he quickly pulled them on. The girl didn't say anything, just watched his slender back as he worked.

«Do I know you?» he turned toward her again, displaying his firm chest. He wasn't as buff as Butch was, but he had traces of the lines. It took a few seconds of staring him up and down, undressing him completely with her eyes before she purred in her smooth voice.

«Not really, but our meeting has been requested.»

«By whom?» he snapped a shirt from his bag and covered himself. It felt weird when girls checked him out. He felt like an easy target, a dumb piece of meat. If she liked what she saw, well that was good for her. He simply wasn't interested.

«By Mojo Jojo, of course.»

«And why is that?» the blond buttoned up his shirt and the arms of the shirt, finishing of by crossing his arms. He was aware his biceps stood more out, making him look more buff. It was a trick Butch had learned him, making him fearless and more threatening toward others.

«Because it's about time we had our long awaited date.»

«I feel like a moron for being quite clueless about this, but why would we go on a date? I've never meet you before in my life.» She clicked with her tongue, rising for the chair. With her high heels, her pupils reached his mouth. Tilting her head upwards, she approached his steal body. It seemed to melt as she stopped merely inches away. The blond refused to move, and that was fine by her.

«You're such a silly boy. So naive and a real prince charming. I'd admit, I fell for your looks when I first saw you, but your personality is quite,» eyes again glancing up and down, «delicious.»

«We've never met.»

«Well, of course not, but that's no big deal. You are my fiance after all.» His world started spinning from her words, and he was so puzzled he didn't notice her hands trailing up and down along his muscles, her eyes hungrily taking in his appearance.

«What?» He was out of breath, and it chocked half way up his throat. Clearing his throat, he repeated the question, staring her harshly in the eyes. This was indeed a bad day. He didn't like her; she was acting like a brat. Her laughter filled his air, tickling it. Boomer was tempted to swat her away, had it not started a chain reacting in his body. His intimacy zones were extra sensitive, and when a girl started, he couldn't help feeling aroused.

«Aw, Mojo never told you you have a fiance? It's one of the reasons why you're coming to France in the first place. So we can have our long postponed date. I've planned the day out just perfect. All you have to do, is join in.»

«I'll decline. I'm only with my father for the business trips. Business, not pleasure, sorry.» Butch used to say it the other way around, and probably wouldn't be all to happy about him copying it and using it wrong. He'd just never know, and the problem would be solved.

She giggled, trying her best to half ass hide the fake laugh with her palm. Pushing up on him even closer, their lips almost touched. Her eyes were big, and she had the sweetest perfume.

«You don't really have a saying in the matter, dear Boomer. This is what I want, and this is how it's going to go.»

«Look, lady. I'm sure you're not used to being rejected due to your pretty charms, but I'm not interested in a date. I'd rather head home.» Her pout was fake, and it was clear she wanted it to be cute. To him, it wasn't. He knew every trick, and wasn't going to fall for them.

«My name is not lady, it's Antoanette. Antoanette Lilliana.» There was just no way getting around her. She was used to getting her way, and it was clear to him that she wasn't going to stop any time soon. It would be easier to give her what she wanted, then confront his father. It was going to be tough. Boomer wasn't afraid of dates; after all, it's what he did best. Butch and Blaster always were the hookup types, sleep around and brag about it later on, and Brick was simply Brick. He didn't date unless he got something from it, and he didn't get attached. Sex was sex to him, a need he had lost a couple of years ago. Generally the feeling of humans had been forsaken to him, but Boomer was the king of dates and being a prince. He could charm anyone he wanted, and let her walk away after the wonderful, dreamy night she would tell her friends for the ages to come. He was, however, scared of confronting the powerful man. Mojo wasn't a person one said no to, or opposed without consequences.

Boomer went through a one eighty transformation. His previously cold stare became soft and warm, his pose laid back with a hand on one pocket and the other risen in a -well-of-course-it's-elementary way. A smooth smile wiped the sour look of his lips, giving her an invitation.

«Well then, Lady Antoanette. It wouldn't be very nice of me to decline your generousness. Should we get going?» He held a hand out for her to take. The blonde blushed at his sudden transformation, and she squealed before taking it, clinging herself to his arm like it was a life west. He could feel her push his triceps in between her breasts, like so many women had done before. For whatever reason he couldn't understand, they felt more in control that way; as if their sexual appeal would make him bend over like a lost puppy.

Boomer had an ugly secret. He was not as innocent as everyone had believed. Brick and Butch had always laughed at his short, stupid answers, and he had played along. The blonde wasn't innocent, nor a knight in shining armor. In fact, he hated being it; every thing about trying to please others and search perfection was getting on his nerves. Being what everyone else wanted him to be, was easy. Faking himself came to him easily, anything related to art came to him easily, and when given a list of what he needed to prefect himself, he could easily check everything off and pull it off as himself.

It didn't mean he liked it. Sure, fooling everyone was fun at first, where he laughed in the shadows at their naivety, but it had quickly grown boring. Like he had cast away dancing, painting, composing, everything he had mastered. There wasn't a flaw he couldn't fix, and frankly, he couldn't care less when it came to the end of day. Boring, all of it was boring. Except for Bubbles. She loathed him, ignored him. She didn't care about him, and the difficulties it put him through had him even more excited to break her.

But first, he had a date with another forgotten face in the crowd. So many girls to play, and oh so little time.

His expression threatened to turn ugly. This french woman was such a marionette, easy to manipulate and unaware of the dangers she was in. He had no intentions to dance to her little tricks like a child to the piper, but he was going to play with her. Be the perfect prince, have her around his little finger, then break her heart.

She lead the way, and he was a little baffled when he got to see Antoanette's face in the light. It had been too dark in the doom for him actually get a look at her, other than the desperate need she had to wear slutty clothes in blue and white; but now he could see the contour of her body. Thank god she had the need to show of her body, because he could see how alike she was to Bubbles. Their body physics were the same, from what he could tell, but his blonde was skinnier. Sure enough, Bubble's hadn't eaten anything healthy because of the Dograce, but when she got some meat on her bones, they could very much be sister.

Now this was a game changer for him. A red hue crept up on his cheeks. Would his blonde look like that in those clothes? Would she be just as appealing, if not even more? Boomer had zero interest when introduced to this woman, but consider him peaked.

Long lost twins, maybe? Even the lashes were about the same length. Due to the resemblance, he was more interested in her. She was more self aware than Bubbles, and if he could get her to like him, maybe he could get Bubbles to do so? Consider it as training.

He could practice on her until he got home. Bubbles didn't respond to him other than the drawings he had shown and the shower she had taken. But with Brick, she was like an open book. She smiled, talked, and was pressent. He hated it. What did Brick have that he didn't? He had given his unlimited attention to her, showered her things and what did she give him back? Warm up to the man that had tried to strangle her. What the hell? She had to be some kind of masochist.

Butch had bought her of the Dorgrace after all. Maybe she had volunteered to be there. The girl was into that kind of kinky stuff, huh? He had to turn his head away from the leech on his arm so she wouldn't see his thoughts. The blond had to be an open book at the moment. He could be a master. Maybe a more direct approach was what he needed. Spank her around, take what he had paid for?

He could see his ugly smile in the mirror of the elevator doors. The one that went from ear to ear, displaying every single part of his teeth. It was one of those he only let out alone in a room, where no one could see him. It was a fluke to let it out, but he was getting so excited. As the small box dinged, his face relaxed instantly, and he gave her a more milder version of it.

The blonde melted even more in his arms, thinking she had railed him in. How disappointed she was going to be. He wasn't very surprised at the limo waiting for them, and the butler opening the door for them to enter. That's what it at least have to be if he was going anywhere with her. He was a Jojo, preferably treated as a prince.

Bubbles, Bubbles, Bubbles. Boomer couldn't wait to get home and experiment some more.

* * *

Sure, Bubbles had seen colors before, despite living the way she had. Every person that came to watch her fights were dressed up nice, with beautiful patterns and hues, but never in her life had she seen so many different shades as Boomer had presented. It opened a new world for her, and she found it so intriguing, she had to copy his works. In her eyes, they were never as good as those he managed to make. They didn't have the soul, nor the experience.

In his pictures, it felt like she was there. The wind in her hair, the smell of the grass and the sound of people and their emotions. She couldn't replicate that, because she had never experienced it.

He tried his best, she could tell, but that wasn't enough. For whatever reason, she wasn't able to open her heart to him like she had done the redhead. Instead, she felt herself close more up, scared of showing her ugly soul. The redheaded one understood her. He knew what to say, how to capture her and keep her floated from the darkness at the bottom of herself. The redhead wasn't scared of her, nor her ugly parts. He saw her for what she was, something better than what she had ever felt; a human being.

Besides, there was something about the blond. As if he was a shell of himself, keeping his real personality at check and only let people see what he wanted them to. Sins she had been a little girl, she had faced dangerous people one after another, but his insides was the first real danger she had felt. Bubbles was scared of the vibe he had when his guard was faltering. Somehow, he had a darker soul than her. That's what her instincts were telling her.

When handing her the crayons and colors, pencils and papers, he had been calm. As if her being alive was pleasing him, and she didn't like it. It was like her torturer back at the Dograce. He had also shown her mercy in the beginning, talked to her and made her feel safe, then been harsh; he had called her ugly things and given her pain while laughing. As if he got off on her broken face and torn heart. The trust she had shown him, had been a rope he had tied around her neck and hung her to dry for everyone to see. It was a mistake from her side.

After that, she had shut down. Everyone she got the vibe of friendliness of was shut out. Whatever they were offering her and tried their best to please her, was an act. They all wanted to gut her and eat her heart. Good thing she had learned her lesson the first time. Brick wasn't like that. He didn't demand to know anything about her, didn't talk much, just handed her food and helped her.

Bubbles had been reluctant in taking it, but he was open like a book. There weren't anything Brick wanted from her; he didn't want to be friends with her, and he didn't really see her. When she saw him, she felt like he saw someone else in her. Someone he had hold dear. It wasn't like he ignored Bubbles for Bubbles, but more like he needed her to be fine, because he had promised someone he would do so.

It was weird to explain, and she couldn't understand it herself; but he was there. The redhead wasn't like the blond, and he didn't seem to have any ulterior motive, but she didn't trust him completely either. Who knew? Anyone could be a backstabber, but her mood lit up at the sight of him. He felt safe.

After the blond had left and she didn't have anything else to draw, she had found his sketch of her. She had no idea she could recreate memories like that with the pencils. It opened a new world to her, and she barely had time to greet Brick when he came with her dinner and breakfast. When the other blond had been away, the redhead was there more often.

First she drew the room. The bed, the nightstand, the walls and the doors. Clothes and shoes, instruments of some kind and picture frames. Pictures of pictures. When she was done with it and yet again at a loss for something to do, the redhead told her to draw what she remembered. It had taken some time to go all the way back to the origin of her memory, but she had gotten there, and carefully started sketching.

A week passed without any Boomer, and the redhead was spending his time with the blonde. They didn't say much, barely exchanged any word as the day came to ends, but it was nice. He was ticking away on his computer, scratching his head and working really hard with numbers and letters she didn't understand. She had her nose deep in crayons and her skin had gone from white to a plat of colors. Somewhat, she loved it. It felt better than the bruises, cuts and dirt that normally resided there. It made her feel better about herself.

They sat at each others end, going on about their work, but she could feel Brick's gaze upon herself from time to time. It didn't last long, and he didn't say much. She wondered what he thought. Did he want to see her pictures? Like a factory, she had served them like frisbees. Right and left, her memory was sketched down. From the dungeon she had been captivated, to the opponents she fought, to her being sold to Butch. At the end of the eight day, she laid the tiny pencils down.

She didn't know how to sharpen them, and it had stopped her for a short amount of time, until Brick had found her. He had helped with the problem, and right back to work had she gone. When there wasn't anything left to draw, she stared up, and met those red eyes.

Had he sensed that she was done? His laptop was closed, and an elbow was supported by his knee. His back long hair was tied in a ponytail, yet it was standing on ends. He hid his mouth in his palm, and it made him harder to read. Bubbles had come to know the man, and he was easy to read from the form his mouth was going. There was always some soft of twist to it depending on his mood and meanings.

Not like Boomer. The man had only one face, and that was a none threatening one. He wanted people to let their guards down, and that made him dangerous. People on the offense was easy to read, because they rarely cared what others thought, but those hidden were scary. No way of telling where their thoughts were.

«Could I take a look?» His voice was dark, and he wasn't demanding. In the couple of weeks they had known each other, he'd gone from commanding to asking. It should be a warning sign, but Bubbles had learned to know the oldest Jojo. Gathering the drawings in a chronic order, she crawled over and handed it to him. He took the huge pile and quickly glanced through them.

She'd also learned that he was quick with situations, read the mood and had an answer for everything. Boomer had called him a brainiac, but she didn't know what it meant. Was there something special about his brain? He was smart, she could tell from the work he was doing. Would that make him a smartiac?

Some of the pictures were held in place a little longer than others, and the twitch at the corner of his mouth told a different story from his cold eyes. He was disgusted. Didn't he like her pictures? Weren't they well enough drawn? Boomer was a better drawer, she knew that, and maybe she did it wrong. Maybe the redhead was a better drawer himself.

At the end of the story, he placed the sheets down and gave her a little used expression. She didn't understand it. His eyebrows were high up in his forehead, but more wrinkled than surprise. He had a drag of the lips, but not in an angry way. His eyes looked like they were about to die.

«I'm so sorry, Bubbles.» Tilting her head, she felt surprised. What was he sorry about? That her drawing was really that bad? And here she thought she was getting better. Maybe her memory and copying of Boomer were two totally different things.

«I didn't know things were this hard in the Dograce. Had I know, I, maybe things would've been different with Berserk. I, I-» he was at a loss for words. The blankness of his eyes were something she could relate to. Was it sadness he felt? She had felt it several times in her youth. Things had been hard to accept at first, and she had wondered why things were the way they were. After the fighting and the killing, she had a purpose in life, which made it easier. Somewhat.

How could he be sad for her? They didn't really know each other, and there wasn't anything he could have done to prevent this. There was a name she hadn't heard before.

«Who's Berserk?» Bubbles felt horrible for asking, but he seemed like the emotions were about to explode, and she felt kind of awkward. From the day she had meet him, when he had tried to choke her, she had never seen any kind of overflow with emotions before. Nothing like this, anyway.

He drew a deep breath and let out a shaken sigh. It pulled together the pieces he were about to tall in to, before he gave her a light pat on the head. His hand was big. Boomer had a very long and slender one, and Brick had a little broader one. Not like the green one. She could still recreate the strong grip he had on her throat. For someone who was oldest, this man was the size in between his brothers.

«Berserk was another girl from the Dograce. She was bought up by the NeedWant at one point, and he visited her from time to time. Anyway, she died.» That look she knew. It was bitterness. Had she fought to death and lost because of cheep tricks? Was NeedWant another fighting arena?

«What is a NeedWant?» There was so little she knew, and somewhat, she wanted to know more. Not just this room, but things outside. She wanted to go see the places in Boomer's drawings. Experience them, feel the places. Make more memories. Pleasant ones, like those with Brick. It would be nice to meet more people, too.

«It's a place, not quite like Dograce. People do adult stuff there.»

«What do you mean?» A red hue crept upon Brick's cheeks. He was so not ready to have the bird and the bee conversation with this girl. Surely, she had experienced something long those lines from what she had drawn, and he couldn't imagine it was anything she wanted to do again, solely based on experience.

«We'll take that another time when you're mature enough to handle it.» He was going to say more, because he liked talking to the blonde. She listened, but wasn't faced with it. Besides, he couldn't tell his brothers bout the love of his life. They wouldn't understand, and he didn't know how they would react. They didn't get the chance, however, because Boomer was home. He ripped the door open and froze there.

Brick could understand why his brother was reacting the way he was. Bubbles was far too close to him to act like friends, and he had his laptop there. The blonde was confused to why Boomer dropped his stuff and his face turned red. She did understand his expression. He was angry, raging in fact.

«Boom,» Brick said, a hand up in his defense, but it didn't stop the blond from storming over the floor and grabbing him by the collar. He had dark circles under his eyes, and a tired look on his face.

«What,» grinding his teeth in dismay, «do you think you're doing?»

«Keeping her company,» he simply answered. Boomer was faster than the redhead, but Brick was stronger. Besides, he was the oldest brother, and would always have the upper hand just because of that. Then there was fear. Boomer, Butch and Blaster unknowingly feared him. He had a bad temper and a strong punch when he wanted. The backlash had been a real bitch in the past.

«And who's fault is it she's alone in the first place?» His words were dripping venom. Bubbles realized that was a piece of his soul. This was the surface of the real Boomer. He was bitter, angry and loathed his brother. The redhead seemed well aware of it, because his stone face didn't crack.

«You could've just said no. Like I did.» There wasn't anything to detect in his voice, if you didn't have hypersensitive senses. Bubbles could hear the flaming rage down there. He wasn't the collected person he wanted everyone to think he was; the redhead was at the brink of loosing his cool. Boomer had smiled and talked a lot, but even when Brick tried his best, she could still see what he thought the best.

«Could I, now?» The blond shoved him back on the ground, tripping his food. It was clear, had they been wolves, they would've jumped on each other, teeth baring and claws tearing. If they weren't getting along, she didn't get why they just didn't let their fists do the talking. Then, she hadn't known too much of talking. There had barely been any from her side at the Dograce, and she was still adjusting to talk about what she thought and felt, instead of them just reading her face and body language.

«Couldn't you?» Brick rose from the floor, laptop under his arm. They were staring each other down. Brick was merely a couple of inches taller, but the blond seemed equally as threatening. There was an unspoken feud going on.

«I used to look up to you,» Boomer said. It reminded her of the hissing from the snake, right before it attacked. Except, this wasn't hissing, this was him attacking.

«And I should care?» His face said he really didn't care. Even Bubbles understood the truth in those words. Somewhat, seeing them fight, she didn't like it. They were brothers, siblings. family. It was something she had never had, but from what she understood, it meant much to many. Sometimes, it was everything some needed to go on. This family was torn apart.

«Get out. I'm the one who bought her.»

«Butch bought her. Before he dragged her into this wretched home, you had no idea of her existence. You don't even know what the Dograce really is, do you? What's going on there and what they're experiencing.» The words seemed to do something to the blond, because his expression soured even more. As if he had just taken a large, juicy bite of a lemon.

«So?» There it was, another look of murder.

«You have no idea who she is, Boomer. You're way in over your head with this one. Good fucking luck,» the redhead snarled and prowled out. The woman was tempted to follow him, had it not been for one factor. They were right. Boomer didn't know Bubbles, and she belonged to him.

He turned his wrath toward her, but Bubbles was already far gone. The blonde didn't like staring at the other one. She's seen her fair share of fucked up in her life time, but he was close to top five.

«Don't you dare,» He grabbed her by the collar of her sweater. Pulling her so close she had to stare into his dark eyes, had Bubbles come down to earth. They were light a cloudy day, with a chance for thunder.

«Don't you dare fade out on me. Why do you talk to Brick and not me? I treat you well, I give you food, shelter, clothes. I saved you from Butch when he wanted to kill you, I keep you safe. Why won't you talk to me?» She heard his voice crack. He was trying desperately to get through to her, and she let him. Because this was a piece of his soul, and he was showing it to her. Not a very pretty piece, but it didn't have to.

Waiting for an answer, she could see how tired he was. Hadn't he slept? What had happened while he was gone? She'd not yet seen him explode like that, and he didn't seem to mind Brick visiting before. Licking her lips, she tried to find the right words.

«Brick helped me. When you were out, he helped me out of the shower. Brought me food. He's been doing it for the last two weeks. If you're going to use me, then do so.» The shirt fell to the floor, and she kicked the boxers off. It had him jump back and stare at her body. Bubbles didn't mind. He wasn't the first to dream about naughty stuff to do to her, and he sure wouldn't be the last either.

«Stop, stop,» Boomer covered his eyes, a dark hue creeping up on his cheeks. He'd seen her naked plenty of times, but it felt like something else when she offered herself like that. Taking a couple steps back to get some breathing room, he let the hand sink, but kept himself turned with his shoulder at her, staring straight ahead.

«I Just want you to talk to me. What makes Brick special enough for you to talk to him? I bring you food, I dressed you up when you got here. When I'm here, I do help you.» He was like a sulking child. Now that Bubbles could relate to. She'd seen herself sulk several times, in the darkness by herself.

«Because I can see him,» she stepped closer, face like a blank sheet. «I understand him. His intentions and emotions shine through with everything he does. While you are a faint.»

«A faint?» He questioned, glancing into her sky blue eyes. They were so clear, innocent. He don't he'd ever seen her present so long for him. Almost made his heart flutter. Rising her fists, she moved back and forth, before striking at his left. On instinct, he went in to block it, but was surprised when she suddenly turned right and let her hook fly. It almost connected with his chin, and she withdrew it.

«A faint. You think you know where it's going, but it's not. Everything you do is fake.» The comparison had the man at a loss for words. The blond rolled his jaw and scratched at the back of his neck. Bubbles knew she was right, and she knew he wasn't used to people seeing it. Others weren't suppose to see his true colors, because he was ashamed of them. Feeling like she had to explain herself, she rumbled the drawings together from the floor and handed it to him.

Swallowing once, he took them and glanced down. Waiting patiently for him to finish, she felt the breeze against her skin. After being forced to wear it, she had gotten used to the fabric covering for her. Goosebumps popped up on her skin, and she slowly gathered the given clothes. The shorts were the first thing to come on, before the shirt quickly followed.

At one point, the blond couldn't stand still any more. He started wandering around, making low sounds to himself and gnawing at his nails. It wasn't like when Brick had looked through. The redhead had done it fast, barely glanced at the pages, but the blond was taking them in. Bubbles didn't know what to think. Was he going to react the same way the redhead had, or was he going to show his true colors?

To be frank, it was a test. From what she had learned and could tell, most thought that what happened to her was horrible, and she agreed. The blond never wanted to return back to where she came from. She'd rather live on the streets, not that she knew what that meant. Anything would be better than Dograce. From what she had seen, Boomer would like it. The man would probably get off of it, just like everyone who had come there had.

At the last page, the man threw them around. It was like a snowstorm, and Bubbles fisted her hands. The intent to kill was strong, and he came straight for her. He broke through a page, and she dodged it, and came eye to eye with him. While he was faster, she was more agile. It came back, trying to grip at her neck.

She let herself fall to the ground, taking a strong grip on the hand. A foot went straight in the air, aiming for his chin. Boomer moved away, going straight after her. He knew it would be more beneficial for him to keep his distance, because his libs were longer, but she was aiming for close combat.

Brawling around, fits flying, knees kneeing, stomach moving, she gripped at him, he fought to get them back; if she locked them, she would break them. It was a fight for their lives. They headbutted, clawed, tangled. It was a furious mess.

Rolling around, they knocked down a nightstand, the lamp shattering against the ground, bed went flying, drawings scattered everywhere. It was a war zone. Breaking free from her, Boomer drew his breath heavily. He couldn't remember the last time he had to use his strength like that. When younger, he and his brothers used to play fight. Butch always took it too far, but the blond had loved it. It had pushed him to do better, to show him he wasn't perfect, and he needed improvements.

That had faded through the years, and now that the rush of adrenalin was back, he smiled from ear to ear. It wasn't like anything he could remember. The sweat fell down his forehead, he felt his stamina was lower than before due to all the desk work and his muscles were burning. But like a child, he was smiling. It felt good.

Through the chaos they had created, flying papers and broken furniture, he could see a faint smile upon the girls lips. Bubbles hadn't seen anyone enjoy a fight before, not like he just did. Not like she did. Fighting had become her life, it was all she had ever known, and boy was she good at it, and he seemed to take a use of it.

Colliding again, they turned right and left, up and down, punched, hit, bit, kicked, scream before falling exhausted to the side. He was breathing the hardest, because he was so out of shape. Bubbles could still keep going, and easily broke his neck, but something inside her held back. Being around Brick had softened her. For a short amount of time, she was able to hold back. To stop herself from her heart tearing instincts.

He then laughed. Not the controlled type where he wanted people to join in or find him fancy. It was roaring; the kind that burned in the stomach so much one tumbled over, had to hold it in place so it wouldn't jump out and about, and made it hard to breathe. With him already out of breath, he sounded like a frog croaking.

«Hey, Bubbles?» he said, wiping his eyes.

«Yeah?» Her voice was soft and she turned her head to stare at him. A soft smile in place. Brick had told her she should smile more, because it suited her. Until she had moved in with them, she had been told nothing suited her. Not clothes, not her hair, not a weapon. Everyone she had meet had one, but she had been denied it, yet the redhead had told her she suited to smile.

«Did you,» he scratched the top of his head and stared at the ceiling. For whatever reason she couldn't understand, did it give him courage to keep going. Wetting his lips, he continued.

«Did you and Brick-?» Bubbles was confused. Did they what? Draw? Brick hadn't drawn, he'd just watch while working. Did they eat together? No, he always left her alone when they ate. Maybe he was ashamed of the way he ate and didn't want to show her. Did they what? He must have understood her perplexed look, because he was willing to elaborate.

«Did you and Brick fuck?»

«No,» she said without a second thought. Why would they do that? It wasn't like they saw each other that way. The air went out of the blond like a balloon. His shoulders came down and he placed his palm over his eyes.

«You thought we did,» she said, staring at his stiffening pose. Caught with the hand in the cookie jar.

«Yeah, I thought you did,» he muttered and turned away. Somewhat, she didn't have any problems reading his back. Shoulders to his ears, head leaning forward, knees drawn up. He was sulking. Why? Could he be jealous? But that didn't make any sense. He himself didn't even want to touch her. After she had stripped down to nothing, he had still moved away from her. Maybe she was ugly in his eyes. After the battle wounds she had suffered up in the years, a couple of light scars still lay on her skin. None of them were as strong as everyone else had, but the axe wound was still pink, a shade darker than her skin.

«We wouldn't do that. Brick says he's keeping me company, but it's more like the other way around.» Boomer didn't turn around because she told him a secret about his brother, but because this was the first long thing he had ever heard her say. Even with the redhead.

«He's lonely. Somehow, I remind him of someone he knew. Someone who is dead.»

«Did he tell you?» A pinch of envy was present in his voice, and she nodded her head, eyes meeting with his. He was open. The blond was finally open to her. She could see it; the sorrow, anger, remorse, all the negative emotions were clouding his soul, making him heavy at heart. Why was he so angry? Clearly at Brick and maybe the other brothers? There was a brother she hadn't meet yet, but she had heard him, a week back. He had knocked on the door and Boomer had left with him. He wouldn't let them meet, and from what she had understood from Brick, the last brother was dangerous.

«Someone named Berserk. She was also bought of the Dograce like I was.»

«Who? I've never heard about-» The door to his room swung open with a large bang, scaring the living crap out of the blonds. Bubbles was faster, she darted past him and toward the intruder. It was her reaction, one she was practically born with. Whomever tried to get into her cage always wanted to hurt her, and she needed to take them out before they got the chance.

After some angry comments from Brick about leaving the maids alone, and that she should attack any of the brothers if she felt the need to, she knew whom to avoid. This was not one of them. This was a girl of foreign looks, with blond hair like herself, and sapphire eyes. She wore a tight, blue dress with a long v-neck, spirals of skin showing down her arms and a short skirt. She had huge ribbons in her hair and a grin upon her face. A sinister one at that.

It was a face she had seen so many times in the dungeon. The sadistic smile and the supposedly sweet smile was a trademark, before she was put in excruciating pain. She would never forget the blond hair and that face. The dress was also a trademark.

Before she could give her a punch in the stomach, she was tackled and sent crashing in to the wall. Boomer held her tight in place, feet kicking and fists blazing. Tears were burning in her eyes, and she could see red. There wasn't a cage in between them, and if she got a hold of her pretty little neck, Bubbles was going to snap it. Back and forth until it rolled of her head.

«Calm down,» Boomer didn't sound convinced. Bubbles was a spitfire. She was tough and constantly blank but for those rare occasions of happiness. He'd never seen her like that before. In fact, he'd never seen anyone but himself like that before. It was on those day's he couldn't take the act any more and let his inner beast out. The murderous one.

She was the perfect image of his insides in pain. It didn't matter how much he tried to calm her or held her in place; she fought with her strength at fullest and eventually got loose, together with a punch to the face. It had his face ringing, and he didn't manage to collect himself in time. Boomer turned and watched as his blonde hurled herself at the newly arrived.

The other blonde was calm, even smiled wider, as she flipped her hand out from her back and pushed a metal pole hard into her stomach. Bubbles screamed in agony, and fell to the floor. Quickly, another rood with a half collar stomped down on her throat, keeping her in place. He could hear her flesh burning all the way over there.

«Antoanette, what are you doing?» He was lost. His intentions had been to save her from the inhumane strong girl, but now it was his girl that was in danger. Tears flodded from her huge eyes, and she let out another howl of pain.

«Long time no see, Bubbles,» the girl giggled.

* * *

Papers were perfectly stacked up in equally high piles. It was far into the night, and the staff was already tucked up in their beds and getting the much needed rest for the next, exhausting day that awaits them. There was only one man left in the whole fifteen floor building, and he was flipping through books, notes, folders and layers of contacts. The screen from the computer was giving him a headache, but the old man didn't bother learning how to turn it down. A dim light at the back cascaded the room in shadow and piece.

Mojo was busy making a name for himself, and even after all the years and the well earned respect, he still felt like he had to keep going. One wrong slip, and down the hatch out would all go. When was the last time he had truly gotten the rest his gray hair demanded? His tired mind was so used to it, but it felt like he was sleepwalking. Even when he closed his eyes, he could feel the chair under his butt, the smell of his closed office, and see all the work that needed to be done. Despite dreaming, the old man was working, planning and constantly checking up that everything was right.

He had a nick for sleeping at the desk. It saved him the travel time it required to get to and from his working place, and a deep, dark part of his brain didn't want to meet with those at home. To be fair, he had done less work in his prime, and the him in the present was using it as an excuse not to have contact with his sons.

It didn't change the fact that he still had to drag the blond ruff with him everywhere he went to train him properly, but that felt like something else. Boomer was promising, but he wasn't nearly at the level as Brick had been. Every time the boy said anything, he was surprised that he knew as much as he did and managed to keep up. Sadly to say, it didn't live up to his standards. Had it not been for Brick's early reassignment, he wouldn't even have considered taking in the blond. Butch was a lost cause, so he didn't even glance his way.

No matter what the blue ruff tried, it wouldn't be good enough in his eyes. A flash of anger ran through him, and he pushed one of the piles on to the floor, leaving it for the assistants in the morning to figure out. It felt good, bringing some chaos in to his normal everyday. He couldn't understand how things had turned out this way; Brick had been perfect! He was going to succeed him. He had the charms, the talent, the will to make it big! But the problem at hand was that his oldest redhead had lot his will, and he knew why.

«My, my, darling. Looks like things aren't going as smoothly as they seem,» a voice purred from the shadows. Mojo didn't turn to it, but let his forehead fall into his palm. He was so damn tired. When was the last time he had slept, really slept? He couldn't remember. As if work wasn't hard enough, keeping up his spirit and rage at a distance, now this had to happen too.

Him stepped in to the light, closer to the desk than first anticipated. He let his eyes take in the surroundings for a couple of seconds, before coming up to the side. In an attempt to please the worker, he lay a hand on his shoulder. It was immediately shrugged off, and the brunette rose from his chair. They stared each other down. Mojo was more buff; he had a fit body and normally stood tall over everyone, but he was slightly lower than Him. They both had raven hair.

«I'm perfectly capable of having an overview of the situation, you don't need to come here and remind me of how things are going. I've done what you asked. Boomer even threw a fit of anger I haven't ever seen him capable of after your brat dropped him off. What have you done with my boy?»

«Your boy?» Him let a slick smile his way. Like the sassy personality he was, he let his arms fold over his chest, besting his accomplice.

«Answer me, Him.»

«Just spiced up his inner self. The boy carries a lot of rage, and it's good to vent it out now and then.» One of them were red in the face, and it was not the devil.

«What are you playing at? I don't understand why you – no, never mind. You've taken Brick away from me, and Butch was never much to begin with, but at least I had Boomer. He is going to take over my company when he's ready. Why? Why do you have to take my other son away from me?» But Mojo didn't have to ask. He had brought it on himself all those years ago.

A brow arched high up in his forehead, and Him sighed loudly.

«So, you don't know you have a rat in your house, I see.» A twitch of his head had Mojo take a step back and furrow his brows. He was at the verge of exploding from anger. The man would never admit it, but his most liked son had his personality; both in determination and feelings. They reacted to things very much the same way, but the father didn't party around. He was taking his creativity out on other things and earning money.

«The last rat that was in my house was exposed of the second we got the chance-»

«Wrong vermin,» Him blew up. He seemed to grow two heads in height as he leaned over the mildly scared man. Truth be told, they usually clashed heads when they met, and Mojo had gotten used to his old friend's one eighty mood swings, making him less and less frightened. They had this conversation every time they saw each other, and to be frank, he was getting tired of it. Mojo knew he fucked up, and Him would never let him forget it. Even if a million years went by, would he never forgive him for making the mistake.

«You said you had it under control. No need to check in; you could see the difference. Well, could you? Could you, Mojo? Because the tombstone in my house tells another story.» Him was so angry, he practically spat flames from his mouth and shot laser beams from his eyes.

The man wasn't about to apologize. How many times had he done so already? Too many to keep count, and he would just be wasting his breath. No matter what way he said it and what words he used, the man wasn't ready to hear him out. It was too early. It would always be too early.

«You said something about a rat in my house. There is no way Boomer could have found Bubbles. She's hidden, and I don't think you would let her out of your sight. Not after loosing the second one, anyway.» Him didn't throw fits like Mojo with his instantaneously outbursts. He was like a firecracker; one loud boom, and he was done with his fit. However, Him was like a grenade. He exploded, and everything around him suffered the consequences. This was one of those time.

Him's fist connected with the table and it got crushed under the strong force. Papers went flying, his computer was cracked against the walls and floor, bouncing away like a tennis ball. Splinters of wood dusted the place.

«Really? Do you have to demolish my office every time?» Mojo waved a hand at the mess. It had taken him weeks to get the things done. Luckily for him, it had happened before, and he saved everything on an USB in his pocket. He had predicted something like this, and had quickly put it away as the devil had entered the room. When Mojo was at the brink of madness and tired like a worn horse, his other half would come running with his grin and pretentious voice.

It always seemed like Mojo was the chew toy. They had met on business trips and by chance several times, but he never saw the ugly side of Him when they weren't alone. Who knew? Maybe the devil felt like Mojo was someone he could get his anger out on. To call them friends would be taking it too far; acquaintances was the right word.

«The second one was a fluke I couldn't recover fast enough from, besides, the man I left her with wasn't capable of keeping her to himself when money was waved in front of his face. Oddly enough, it wasn't the blond airhead that found him. It was your brute of a son that stumbled upon her. My middle man had his orders to never sell her to a blond man, but I never suspected that any of the other brothers would take interest.»

«Butch bought Bubbles? Impossible, out of the question, a situation that's non viable. This is too much of a coincidence to be happening. Wait, wouldn't he have just killed her?» He was horrible at killing of the girls. From what he could tell, it was either a twisted fetish, or he was simply bored of them. Knowing his son, it was probably the last one.

«Seems like Boomer woke from the noise they were making and bought her off his brother. You're too busy with your work to notice after your golden boy went mental, so I had to introduce my own girl. My beautiful little Brat is perfect, but he's too busy with his thoughts on the other blonde that I had to plant a piece of madness inside of him.» That's when he understood why Boomer suddenly had changed so drastically. Horrified and white in the face, he barely managed to speak.

«Him, what have you done? If he's not compatible with the chemical it could get seriously bad, not to speak about his mind. He's too soft to be able to handle it.» It might seem like Mojo didn't care for his sons, but he did. They were the only thing he had, and when it came to the end of the day, he loved them.

«If he's not capable of handling it, I guess we'll be one child down each. After all, the only thing that can save him, will also kill him.»

* * *

Such complications! What's going to happen to Bubbles? Will Boomer be seduced by this Brat, or will he take the other blonde's part? Will the darkness inside Boomer come out, or will Bubbles replace it with light? Can they save each other? Next is the reds, focus on their past and what really happened! Wait, Berserk and Blossom did what..?


	7. Chapter 7

**Truth of the royal past**

Brick needed to get some fresh air after the run in with Boomer. He didn't expect the blond to blow up over something as little as keeping Bubbles company. What was so wrong about it? Did he think he was sneaking in on her and having it his way while he was gone? Had his brother really come to something as lame as jealousy over him, for a slave he had bough at the green ruff? His little brother couldn't seriously thing he was fucking Bubbles behind his back? That was something he expected of Butch, and not him.

The room was as soundproof as they came, and thank the heavens he had his window open. The screek reached his ear, and he was sure it shook the whole house. It sounded like an animal being tortured. He strolled out of his room and glanced around the corners. What was making such a horrible sound? It couldn't be of this earth.

If he'd know what he would find, he would have acted sooner. The only door open was Boomers, and his ears could confirm it came from there. As he glanced inside, he felt his heart skip a beat in horror. Bubbles was bound to the floor by two poles, crying and screaming as if she hadn't done anything else her entire life. He pushed the woman in his way. The neat figure easily lost her footing and went stumbling. The poles in her hand was removed and the blonde on the floor stopped screaming. She heaved strongly for her breath, tears still rolling down her cheeks. Her whole neck was red and irritated, drops of blood tickling out of the skin.

Her sweater was pierced, a bloody hole in her stomach. He was scared of touching her, scared she would fall apart in his hands. She was shaking violently. Drool mixing with her tears and blood. Her pupils were tiny, and she was so afraid, he didn't know if she had lost her mind.

And he was suddenly back with Berserk. The first date they had ever had. He was still so shocked over her trusting him, despite having been so skeptical, and so small. She barely had a vaste and he could put his hand around her wrists. Tension had been high in her body when he had jumped out of the window, but they didn't fall face flat on the ground and become someone's pancake problem.

Being able to fly was the best thing in the world, but experiencing joy from other as he had, had him feel even better. The gleeful face she had shown, eyes wide and mouth half agape as the city below them light up, the endless stars over their head and wind in their hair had beaten flying. She had been so happy at the moment, and Brick had forgotten that normal humans couldn't fly. To her, it must have been freedom in it's purest form.

They could fly all night had he known she would be so easily amused. The redhead hadn't seemed scared either, pink eyes sparkling at the wonders of the world. Unfortunately, they had a meeting to get to. He had already ordered a table for them at the finest restaurant he could find, but they first had to make a stop.

Antonio was running back and forth, ordering all the girls at his disposal and puffing away at his fashionable water pipe. He seemed like a Sherlock, with a really thick mustache and fluffy hair. With his routed shirt and skinny, colorful jeans, he jumped at the sight of them, clapping his hands together. The words came rambling out in one never ending phrase. It was so fast Brick had to stop him.

«I'm so sorry, ma chéri, but your darling is such a beautiful little doll. All the colors I could use. Is your face really makeupless? That's such a gift! So few ladies have such perfect skin with zero help at all, no. What foundation do you use, creams, moisturizer?»

«Rambling again, Antonio,» Brick reminded him, tapping his foot.

«Of course. My bad, Mr. Jojo. You know how I can get around potential.» He snapped his fingers and three ladies came running with puffed faces. They had were equally as captivated by the female redhead as Brick had been himself. When they got their hands on her, he could barely get a word through.

He probably wouldn't have either, had it not been for Berserk's reaction. She pulled her hand to herself with lightning speed, a look of death upon her face. From her lethal pose, he could tell she was ready to break every single bone in their body if they dared approach or touch her again. Wrinkling his eyebrows, he let a hand fall on her shoulder. She turned to stare at him. The look she gave him was one of a pained animal. Berserk didn't like it when strangers touched her.

«It's fine. They're not going to hurt you.» From what he could see, she didn't believe him. The only thing she could trust, was herself and her instincts. This was nothing like the cheerful waiter he could remember, but it was the same girl. Her happiness, determination, smile. It was the same. Maybe she was good at hiding it, and the sudden rush had her thrown off balance.

«Tell you what. If something happens, just scream, and I'll come running to your aid. Alright?» The girl still didn't seem convinced. She was reluctant about putting her life in their hands. unfamiliar hands. «I promise,» he whispered, nudging her forward.

Finally, she let them. And as he had given his word, he was just around the corner. He would come rushing in if she as much as gave a which. To be frank, he was more scared of her hurting any of the workers than she being hurt herself. She could fight dogs with her bare hands, and he had seen it with his own eyes. No, if anyone were to get hurt, it were the innocent. His trusted tux was hanging in a closet, ready for him like every time. It barely took a moment of his time to dress up in it.

Brick had graduated way too early, being the genius he was. Knowledge came easily to him, and he could memorize anything he saw once. Be it years later, he could quote it. In his short high school life, he hadn't dated much. There had been plenty of parties afterward he had attended and both laid and dated girls far and wide. Never in his career as a womanizer had he seen anyone as beautiful as Berserk was at that time.

They had slightly curled her hair, making it cascade around her face, set up higher in the back. Surely, from her reaction earlier on it must have cost them a finger or two. Her dress took his breath away. It was just right, leaving the arms bare. It had a v-neck, but not very long. It left her back half bare, and a slice up her left tight, showing it to the world. The silk reached the middle of her ankle, sitting tight around her hips. He could feel himself drool. Did she even have any underwear? He remembered what she had looked like, and had to wriggle around not to get a boner. Need, to, keep, it, cool.

He also took notice of a mark on her back. It was black, like a tattoo. Inspecting closer made him realize it was a heart, broken in two. Having seen it made him feel more like a douche than ever. Of course this beautiful girl had her heart broken at one point in life. The redhead had read on the internet somewhere that the wounds in a girls heart could last an eternity and cause problems for future loves. No problem there, Brick had intended to take it slow. For the first time in his life, did he feel serious about someone. He wanted to please her, to let her feel good.

How had he not seen it before? Maybe he had been too captivated by her beautiful, flawless skin to care for it? It wasn't very big after all, merely a thumb in size.

The redhead didn't seem to think much of the dress, but she was surprised by her look. As astonished she was by her appearance, he was even more so. Brick could feel his heart flutter, his nerves longing to touch her, and his throat dry up. Blood was pumping in his ear, making him blush slightly.

«Oh, my,» Antonio smiled secretly beside him, giving him a suggestive look. The Italian man was an old friend of the family, and had made several girls for every Jojo look nice, but this had to be the first time he had truly captivated the oldest son. Sure, he would always comment on how nice they looked, but never had he been at a loss of words like now.

The remark didn't exactly help him recover, and he muttered that they needed to move along. A taxi was waiting on the outside, because he couldn't exactly travel with her like that. They were both quiet on the way. Brick was scared of seeming too eager, and Berserk had nothing to say, she was captivated by the evening. Nice dresses, a ride, and flying. What more could she possibly have wanted? Just this was enough for her.

As they arrived at the restaurant, he was greeted by the butlers. They all knew him; because he was Mojo's son. If anyone would tip them well, it was going to be him. Leading them up to the second floor, they had the whole room for themselves. All the other tables were cleaned out, and there was just a single one in the middle.

A chandelier was hanging from the ceiling, in white gold and crystals. Candles with beautiful sticks in silver and pattered with roses. Her high heels were clattering against the floor, and she was lost in the moment. Never in his life had he felt so good about the experience he was giving her. He had been a prince all his life, and quickly grew tired of everything and took it for granted. It's so easy for those who has to forget exactly what they have. Staring at her, he understood.

The candles at the table was lit, the night sky shading the room to a perfect balance. One of the waiters came up to them and handed each their menu. Brick already knew what he wanted, having eaten there too many times to count on both his hands.

Berserk was something else. She tilted her head – actually tilted her head like a puppy to sound – and did her best in reading. Flustered she gave up and placed it down.

«Are you ready to order?»

«I don't know what to take,» she slowly said. Now it was his time to get embarrassed. What if she had spent her whole life at the Dograce and couldn't read? What if she didn't know what these things were? How insensitive he had been. Truly, it was easy to forget. He made a memo to tutor her later on that.

«What do you enjoy eating? Fish, bread, chicken, pig, cow?» With the mention of them, she glanced back and forth. What now, he thought. Before he could ask what the deal was, she pursued her lips and answered.

«Can I take what you're taking?» For a slight moment, he felt disappointed. That's what every girl ordered. They didn't like choosing, so they took what was going to take. She was pretty, he'd give her that, but this was kind of dull. _Have your own opinion, damn it._ Waving the waiter at them, he gathered the menus.

«We'll both have a A5 Kobe steak. Striped style. 12 ounces will do, I think.» The man nodded before asking if they wanted anything to drink. Berserk was blank when it came to that too, and Brick just told him to take a random soda. They weren't old enough to drink, not that they would have denied him it.

The female didn't do much talking, and Brick had to entertain himself. Luckily for him, the food came when he had just about ran out of questions, the feeling of awkward had crept it's way up his butt.

Once they ate, Brick was reminded of why he was so hard captured in her web of strings. She ate as if she had never eaten before. When he was half way, her's were long far gone. The happy smile was still there, and her cheeks were red. True happiness came from her, and he leaned on his palm while watching, letting a piece of meat dangle from the slowly waving fork.

«You've never tasted it before, have you? Just like with dressing up and flying. I do understand the flying part, however. Normal people can't fly.» The last piece was stuffed and she barely had any time to chew before she swallowed it.

«No, I've never. At least, not that I can remember.» He took a sip of the drink, and was rewarded with the same look. Everything she tried was new to her. Which raised the question, what had happened to her, and where did she come from?

«Have you lived at the Dograce your entire life?» he asked, pushing the plate away. Stomach felt full, and he was more hungry for her than anything.

«That's,» she muttered, let the fork fall on the plate. «I don't know. Up until five years ago, I don't remember anything. Not where I came from, or who I am. Only my name, B- Berserk,» The sudden discourage seemed odd to him. Like she didn't want to say her name. Seeing she didn't want to talk about it, he didn't pester her any more. They talked so long they didn't get to dance as he had planned, - he talked and she came with a couple spin ins here and there – and had to rush back before they were discovered.

Running by the shop to drop the dress off, he flew at full power to reach the house. Sneaking around the corner, they landed at the floor just as there was a knock on the door. Someone were there to tell them the time was up, and Brick grimaced as he tried his best to be quiet when he placed the bars back in place.

Just barely also, as the lade came rushing in. She seemed happy he was dressed and ready to leave. He had to say so next time, or they wouldn't make appointments with him any more. Brick promised to remember, and waved to Berserk as he left. His reward was that ever so cute smile of hers.

It went on like that for some time. He would drop by and take her places. When he first said hello to her downstairs, she would greet him properly and be very outgoing, while she was shy when they meet in the bedroom.

Brick was so scared of taking it too fast, that he took her every place he could think about. Learning her to read and showing her around the library – Berserk loved books -, taking her to amusements parks, eating cotton candy, taking carousels, going to the zoo, the aquarium, fast food places – he learned that any type of food was good enough for her, and she wanted to try it all – movies, theaters, and before they both knew it, she saw forward to their meetings, greeted him in the door, blushed at the sight of him, and she talked about everything, like a normal girl. The quiet and secluded personality blossomed into a beautiful and strong person.

She hadn't been quiet at their first date because she was like any other girl, it was just that she didn't know. Berserk didn't know what things were at first, and that made her so insecure she didn't have a meaning about it. He felt so mean and stupid afterward for thinking she was boring, because she had a meaning when she knew what things were.

Then the time came where she was bored of the stuff he showed her. There was a sudden change in her, as if she didn't want to hang out with him any more. Brick was so flustered and confused, that he happily accepted when she asked to come home with him. What a fool he had been. He should have left it at that, a flirt that wasn't meant for the others to see.

She had been gleeful yet again, as she ran through his house, giggling at the size of it and pulling him along. He knew everything, of course, but exploring was fun with her. When they were hidden in his room, she kissed him. It had been so determent, almost rough. Nothing like the soft girl she had once been. To say he didn't like it would be a lie. Brick loved it. He loved every part of Berserk, and that was probably the problem.

Butch and Boomer hadn't been home, but Blaster had. He had even greeted them and acted friendly with the new redhead. Before Brick knew what was happening, Mojo stormed in the door, wild in the face from rage and grinding his teeth.

Never in his life had he seen anyone that angry. The man was screaming curses and pulled Berserk out of his grip, scaring her greatly. Brick had done his best to talk his father out of it, to let her go and be kind to her. He would even stop seeing her if he would just let her go. Mojo would have none of that.

That's when he had ordered Blaster to rip her heart out and crush it. The poor girl had been scared, screaming for her life, and Brick had fought to get to her first, but he didn't know it was going to happen, and was too far away. Before he was there by her side, his little brother had done as Mojo had ordered. His face had been a blank space.

Brick could still hear her horrid scream as her torso cracked awfully and the spatter of blood as the beating heart left her body. She died instantly, the broken heart lay scattered across the floor in pieces. His father had left him there, crying over the carcase of the woman he loved.

Those beautiful pink eyes had lost their spark, but her skin was still warm. Blood and tears trickled down her face, as if she was still alive. She didn't breathe, and he open hole in her chest had him want to puke.

Blaster stood around, bawling his eyes out. He apologized none stop, but Brick wouldn't hear it. He screamed every threat he could muster, telling him to get the fuck out and that he never wanted to see him again. The brunette wasn't a brother of his anymore.

The redhead could never forget, forever haunted by the her death and he was unwilling to forgive.

Bubbles wasn't dead, he realized as she coughed and scrambled around. There was still time to save her, the girl he had come to feel as Berserk's little sister. They were from the same place, they needed the same calm approach. He had been there for the both of them, and he wasn't going to let Bubbles down. No way was Mojo taking another from him.

«What the fuck?» the blonde he had knocked over muttered, hands rubbing her sore knees. It wasn't the stranger that made him angry, or the fact that she had hurt Bubbles. Not that it mattered what reason she had, he wouldn't hear any of it. Boomer had the most sadistic smile planted on his face. As if he was enjoying his new slave in pain. Brick had only seen such madness one place before, and that was in the mirror, late at night, when he had murder in his thoughts.

The redhead had always had a nick for insanity; it came to him like sugar with tea, but his blond brother wasn't like that. He was born to be the easiest going out of them, the one with the most feelings of justice and guilt. Nothing like what he could see at the moment. What he laid his eyes upon wasn't anything like the little brother he had grown up with.

Something was wrong. He could feel it to the depth of his bones, but before he could demand an explanation for the doppelganger and the odd behavior of his blond brother, the most sinister sound reached his ear. It was the painful thudding of footsteps. And not any random at those; these were the kind he used to fear as a child, because he knew what would come judging from the way the taps strolled along. If they were light and steady, praise was sure to be in his way, but if they were like now; hard, almost like a stomp, and hurried along, a dreadful storm was brewing.

Something had set their father off, and his mind raced, but he couldn't think clearly. If Bubbles was discovered, she would surely be killed like his beloved Berserk. There was two Bubbles, but only one of them were his Bubbles. The other had a darker shade of ashen hair and while Bubble's had the hope of a bright sky, her's were the sinister depth of the ocean. Anything could be hidden down there, and nothing good would come out of it.

Boomer wasn't much of help, seeing he was waiting for the impact. What the hell was going on? No time asking, he grabbed around the unconscious Bubbles and darted for the end of the room. His quickness seemed to throw the blonds off, because the girl started protesting, and Boomer stuttered without knowing what he wanted.

Brick was out of the room in matters of seconds, darting through the sky with a sweating forehead and tense muscles. Hopefully Mojo was coming over because of the ruckus and wanted to know what was going on, and Boomer would be blamed. His logical brain was kicking in.

After the redhead died, Brick was not the same; Mojo knew it, and thus avoided him like the plague. Just like he wanted. Hopefully, he would still not go in to his room and just check up on his blond brother. A lot of ifs and hopes.

Cons with having a billionaire as a father was that he knew everything that was going down in the city; and if he didn't know, then Him surely did. The lawyer was known all over the world, and Brick hadn't know whom he had been when he was faced with him all those years ago outside the Dograce. Through his last years, he had gotten to know the devils work from personal experience and the newspaper.

That left only one neutral place; but he dreaded going there. Brick was smart, and this was the only tactical place to take her. Still carrying her in his arms, his shoulder supporting her head, he stormed in the back door of NeedWant.

If Sedusa refused, he would be sure to wave his wealth in front of her face, and she was a whore to the bone. Another reason he was sure he could trust her, was her policy. She never ratted out her clients and kept everyone's secrets. Somehow, it was her guilty pleasure to learn others secrets. Brick agreed; knowledge was power.

A woman with blond long hair and a small nose was running back and forth, trying to get a system in the different costumes. She was dressed up as a maid herself, and he had to clear his throat to get her attention. The medium sized woman almost jumped out of her good skin at the sudden sound and laid a hand over her heart with wide eyes.

«Mr. Jojo! You almost scared the – Wait, you're not Butch. Who are you? What do you want?» Glancing her up and down, he was almost disappointed at his brother's taste in women, but who knew what when at the bottom of a bottle, anything could happen. Besides, his green brother wasn't the one to take to shame, and would rather brag about it and ask how good of a fuck he was. That was the real wonder. For all he knew, she could be a real blast.

«I'm Brick Jojo, and I require to speak to Sedusa at once.» She didn't seem to buy it at first, eyes squinting with their brown color – was it her real color? Not easy to tell with all the makeup, cosmetics and trash; he couldn't care for all the silk, pearls and fabrics. Something changed in her behavior and she nodded before running off, incomprehensible words leaving her rose red lips.

They didn't have any locks behind there, but several benches and hooks for their clothes. Did they live here, or was it just their work? Like with other suiting up for business, did they too? He almost felt ashamed for not knowing something so simple. Did whores have families? Children and a husband that loved them?

He didn't get to philosophy any more as the woman came barging in, hips swaying and hair dancing like angry snakes. Sedusa was probably in her late forties, but had the face of a teenager and the fullest lips of models. She kept her body strong and he had heart she only ate the healthiest of products; even forcing it on her girls. Chocolate? Out of the question. Potato chips? Put that thing down at once! McDonalds? Oh, you're going to hell, girl.

«Darling, Bricky, what are you doing here?» she smiled from ear to ear. He didn't get to explain before her dark eyes landed on the girl in his arms. Her smile instantly stiffened and her mouth was very thin as she spoke.

«What are you doing? Who is she?»

«This is Bubbles. She was bought of Dograce, just like -» There was a small spike in his voice, but he quickly gained control over it. «Just like Berserk was.»

«Yes, and last thing I heard is that the both of you were in Paris, having the honeymoon of your lives. I was angry for a long time that you didn't invite me to the wedding, but as long as the girl is happy, I wont complain.» Brick felt like he was going to fall apart. Sedusa didn't know that Berserk was dead. Mojo was probably feeding the world lies about what had happened. From what he had understood, Butch had a bad temper and twisted a couple of necks that Mojo had used his resources to cover up, and because his lost love was a mere hooker, she would easily be forgotten by the world. Sedusa cared deeply for her girls; and that was probably the worst part.

«We just got home,» the lie left his tongue before he could cover it up, but he felt an inner shame that would haunt him for years to come and taint his soul in a new shade of darkness. Nothing more came, because his throat was clogged. He didn't want to remember Berserk, it was the most painful of memories.

At the moment, Bubbles woke up. Her eyes opened like a robot and she twirled in his arms like a snake, trying to locking him in a bone breaking grip. Luckily for him, he was faster and used to Boomer's fighting style. He quickly disarmed her by pushing away and avoiding her hold, before giving her space. It was exactly what she needed.

«Interesting,» Sedusa said, as she approached the blonde. Bubbles, eying Brick and the unknown woman, didn't know what to do at first, but the redhead nodded to her. Everything was going to be fine. If anyone could keep her safe, it was this brunette. Even if it was a farfetched gamble, he was willing to bet his money on the mother of hookers.

Grabbing her by the chin, Sedusa quickly pulled it back when the blond girl tried to get out of it. The tight grip was that of the master, and she was trained to listen to masters without any protests. Just like Brick had understood.

«I'll take her,» Sedusa smiled, showing them her white teeth.

«She's not for sale. I only need her here for safe keeping.»

«Then I have no use of her,» the smile quickly turned to a snarl of disgust, and it almost frightened him how quickly she turned her back when she didn't gain anything from it. Couldn't be a queen bee for nothing.

«For a price,» he added. A look over her shoulder was sent his way, and he had to admit it sent shivers down his spine. He could have said so from the start, but she frankly hadn't given him the chance to do so.

The redheaded brother was starting to feel tired, and Brick was the kind of person who got impatient and cranky when he was tired. He had been working all day, none stop, sleep had been lacking for over sixty hours, and the new information that was working it's way in to his head was not welcome. It was still processing.

«I do think I have the right girl for the job. I will require ten thousand each week she is in my care.» Would you look at that; the redhead was so tired a small smile was playing at his lips. The whore was probably thinking she was demanding a lot, but that was just play money for him.

«You got yourself a deal.»

* * *

Blossom had a simple life. She didn't know who she was up until a couple of years back, and she couldn't care much for those lost years. No one had been missing her, and no one was looking; she couldn't have been anyone special. Despite her amnesia, the redhead never felt confused. Her first memory was of the fighting, and she was good at it too.

Killing, wounding, blood and gore had been her life for a couple of weeks, before she had been sent to a whore house. That had also come to her easily, but complications were made along the way.

Turns out Sedusa had not bought her of the goodwill of her heart, but for her daughter to have a chance at a real life. Berserk was the spit image of Blossom, or was it the other way around? She was bought to take Berserk's space in the NeedWant, so she could attend high school and be a normal girl. In the contrary of her shut down personality and obedient form, the girl was free and fierce. Like an untamable lion, she laughed and joked around.

For she short week she had known her, had the new girl tried to do her best to make Berserk like her. She had the authority of a leader, the good will of a comrade, and the friendliness of a family. The redhead was the kind of person one strive to reach status with. Any kind of reputation would do.

And sins Blossom didn't have anything, she did her best. She picked up on what kind of work she had to do, followed the instructions of the employer, did what Sedusa told her to, and kept up her work. It went smoothly, until Brick came along.

He was asking for her, hanging out with her, giving her attentions, showing her things she didn't know existed, and never dreamed of experiencing. And then he had stopped. Brick stopped showing up, asking for her, and the next things she knew, he was married to Berserk. Showing her the world and left Blossom there.

At first, the girl had been indifferent, but after gaining experience and understanding, she felt betrayed that was followed up with a row of emotions. Anger, disappointment, confusion, sadness and depression. It helped to work. It took her mind of things, and Sedusa even allowed her to attend Berserk's place in school. They were so alike, no one noticed the difference. Blossom was also good at studying and reading, she quickly caught up with the work and had no problems getting top grades.

It took her months to interact with the rest, however. She was so out of training when it came to interactions, and all she knew was what she had learned at NeedWant. Blossom quickly learned that it was not the same interaction at school.

Years later, she had forgotten about Brick's existence and hoped to see Berserk some day in the future. Butch was a regular, and he had money enough to drink himself to death if he wished. Blossom knew to take advantage of her beautiful appearance and fish out some extra tip.

Sedusa had been very skeptical to let her work in the bar, but after some training and great potential shown, she agreed to let her do it if she wore brown contacts. Pink was a very exotic color, but things needed to be neutral when working with others. So there she was, keeping the brunette Jojo with company, wondering it it was worth jumping the wagon on him. He was filthy rich, and many of the girls had tried.

But he was just too dangerous. There were several times she had heard about him killing people and gotten away with it, and she was just not stupid enough to take her chances with that. She would rather get a higher education, become a secretary in a big company or something like that.

He was good company, though. All the stories he could tell, all the places he had been, and everything he had experienced. After a week of his ranting and drunk giggles, she had grown accustomed to the oddball. Some times his brother, another brunette, would come and pick him up, and sometimes he would stagger home alone. If he got home; he could be pretty far down in his own boots at times.

Over a week passed without seeing the ridiculous smile of the Jojo, and she got another surprise at the door. What she wasn't expecting, was a lost girl. It had been a very cold and dark night, and she was taking out the trash after a very crowded night. A series of whines, yells and grunts could be heard, and the redhead felt a sense of justice as she rushed over. A girl was surrounded by seven to eight guys, and she looked frightened.

Blossom stepped in before they could make up their mind, grabbing the first one by his hair, kicking him at the back of the knees and bringing him down. The guy to his right reacted, and she only had to twirl in a tornado of power to grab him by the arm and bend it behind his back. Both winched in pain.

«Release him at once,» a man with green striped hair, a business suit and a bronze colored hat demanded. He was calmer than the rest of the boys. To his left was a taller one, with a gray hat and turquoise stripes. His eyes weren't very focused, so she figured he was probably high on something. At his other side was a small boy, with black hair and a black hat. They all wore the same suits.

«The girl comes with me,» the redhead said. She still had her contacts in, and thank god she had been too lazy to remove them. Pink eyes would probably not be taken seriously.

«She's one of ours. Just a little confused, tis all.» Blossom let her eyes land on the girl. She was so small, with a leather jacket and a green tank top. The raven hair was cut in a fashionable Cleopatra look. She had longer eyelashes than the redhead thought was possible, and the lime greenest of eyes. Butch had a special kind of seductive ones, but this girl was something else. It was mesmerizing to look at. It was not the only thing that threw her off; the jawline, those cheeks, the neck. After all her training with makeup and staring at herself in the mirror, she recognized it. They were so different, yet their features were the same.

«Yeah, she's with us,» the kid snickered.

«Let her talk for herself,» Blossom took the little time to give them a stare of death, before turning her gentle gaze back to the girl. They seemed to be about the same age.

«I'm not with them,» she muttered, hands spread out like a wounded animal. The closest man lunged out for the redhead, but she was faster. Before he realized his mistake, she had knocked the two in her hands unconscious and was aiming for him. He was rising his foot in a kick, but she duck under it and took a firm grip, kicking him in the stomach. The man let out a yelp before hitting the ground. He laid deadly still.

«Brute, come on. Why are you doing this? I thought we were friends. Did the box scramble your brain or something? I have great respect for you for everything you've done, but that only goes so far.» The one in charge tilted his head, a look of disgust around his mouth.

«I'm not this Brute you're talking about. I've never seen you guys before in my life!» The brunette growled. For someone who just looked very confused and lost, she did have a hell of a lot of spark. It made the redhead pull at the corners of her lips.

The man sighed and shook his head.

«Fine, have it your way. But don't come running to us later on. I don't take kindly to traitors.» He waved in the air for the boys to round up. The redhead gave them enough space to pick up their fallen brothers, before the disappeared in to the darkness. A silence held it's hold for a short amount of time as they stared at each other. It could be that Blossom got it wrong, but it felt like the brunette had the same feeling as her; that they somehow should know each other.

This could be a person of her past, from before she had lost her memories.

«So,» the brunette muttered, still weary of her surroundings. She even jumped as the light of a passing car hit her. Something had to be done; she would feel horrible for leaving her there.

«Do you want to come inside? I still have a couple of hours left before my shift is over at the NeedWant, but you could probably hang around until I'm done.» She was obviously confused but decided to nod all the same. Waving her along, they came in to the changing room. If she had been confused before, it was nothing compared to what was happening now. Darting back and forth, she stared at the clothes, shoes, makeup, mirrors and wigs. The brunette was so busy, she didn't notice the redhead as she slipped out of her top and underwear.

«I'm Blossom, by the way. What's your name?» She made small conversation as she picked a pink top and white underwear from a hanger. The girl jumped back as she turned to answer, but the sight of naked flesh must have made her very shy, because she faced the wall with a red face.

«It's Buttercup.» The redhead pulled fishnets over her long legs and a tight black skirt. She left her arms bare and told the brunette it was safe to look. It was a little amusing to look at someone so pure of heart. Being shy was quickly cured in her line of work, and she had completely forgotten that people could feel awkward around too much flesh.

Leaving her there wasn't really an option, and they were short at hand. Sedusa surely wouldn't be happy about it, but Blossom could need the help. Question was if the girl was up to it. The costumers could be rather mean and touchy after a couple of shots and with a girl in sight. It could work. She would keep an eye out and come to her rescue if things got messy.

«Do you want to help out? Use one of the costumes?»

«I don't know what to do.»

«You just have to be a waiter. Bring the drinks and clean the tables. Take orders. Surely, you've had work like this before. If anything happens, just come to me. I'll take care of it,» the redhead was scanning through the clothes, wondering what to dress her up in. Whenever they got a new girl around, they gave her a lot of attention and dressed her up. They were usually young and cute, and it was fun dressing them up and embarrassing them.

«I have never done it before. I live in a dump.» Blossom had met several girls from those kind of homes. Abusive, dirty and poor homes with little hopes for the young ones. Believe it or not, but working at NeedWant was an upgrade for them. Her sympathy spiked and she picked out a cute dress with lazes and the looks of a maid. It even came with a headband.

«This would look really good,» the redhead giggled as she held it up against the brunette's form, but the girl twisted her mouth in disgust. It was clearly she didn't like it, and after a closer inspection, it didn't fit her looks.

«How about something a little more,» Blossom glanced between the girl's current clothes and the ones they had. Tapping a finger on her lips, she let her palm feel the fabrics. Something with leather, definitely. From what the redhead could tell, she had a trained body too, so something teasing would fit nicely.

«This one,» she smiled devilishly and handed over the piece of clothes to the brunette. She was skeptical, but didn't seem to dislike it as much as the first one. Guiding her toward the bathroom, she gestured for her to enter. A quick glance at the clock told her she didn't have much of her break left, but Buttercup proved to be a very quick changer. Praise was on her tongue had it not been for the odd get up. After being so accustomed to how things worked, it was easy to forget that some just didn't know how to do things.

With a motherly smile and mild laughter, she straightened the clothes of the brunette. She was blushing furiously, but the redhead assured her that it was fine. Everyone did mistakes, and she wasn't blaming her for not knowing. With soft and quick movements, she straightened it up, while the brunette was softly protesting to the hands moving here and there. Before she could lash out in her embarrassment, it was over.

Glancing at herself in the mirror, Buttercup was wearing a very erotic form of a female cowboy. Most of her upper, inner ties were exposed, likewise as half of her butt. The stomach and lower back was wide open, and she had a leather west covering her chest. The bra was showing on the sides.

«No, the bra has to come off, you can use this instead,» Blossom ordered and fished out a pair of transparent stickers that would cover up the worst parts. Buttercup wasn't very pleased with it, but she eventually agreed. The redhead couldn't do anything about her hands covering up, because the brunette was feeling naked, but hopefully that would disappear as soon as she started working. Picking a blond, short wig off the shelves and brushing fast through it, she gathered Buttercup's hair in a net – it was abnormal soft – and placed it over her head. The woman was just staring at herself in the mirror, almost like she couldn't believe the transformation she was going through. Poor child.

Flipping her chin from left to right, the redhead was pondering on what kind of makeup to use. She had really soft skin, and there wasn't a trace of dark circles under her eyes. She had full eyebrows, maybe a little bushy, but she could quickly fix that.

Cursing and sending her angry glares, the brunette did sit still as she plucked them and formed her eyebrows to perfection. With a liquid eyeliner did she highlight her eyes and placed a very soft layer of mascara; her lashes were already black and very thick.

«It itches,»

«Don't touch it. You'll just smudge it all over the place.»

«But it itches!» Buttercup was pretending to claw at the makeup, but she quickly seized her childish behavior as she stared at herself in the mirror. Her mouth softly fell open and her eyes widened. Clearly, she had not used makeup either. The look of childish glee was worth all kind of troubles she was going to get in. It seemed to do it, because the brunette wasn't scratching at her face any more, but perked up out of pride.

«Some of the men and women can get rather close in a creepy way, so your name will be Lilly for today. Trust me, you don't want them showing up at your door in a couple of days. And if anything happens, don't hesitate to come to me. We don't take lightly to harassment of our workers.» Leading her out of the changing room, they headed off to the main room. It was large, with place for several tables and a huge dance floor. The bar was something in itself too, with over ten chairs in a half circle.

Mixing drinks and taking orders was her work, and Blossom did a great show out of it, by throwing bottles in the air and juggling the drinks. Girls would gasp in surprise, and guys would make lewd comments about what else she was able to do. Even if she enjoyed meeting other people and see the different personalities, the one she was keeping a close eye on was the brunette. She was like a walking question mark. She didn't know any of the drinks, and perked up when people ordered just the alcohol with no mash up. Vodka? Yes, sir. Whiskey? Right away.

A couple of hours left, and the man of interest walked in to the bar. Butch was a character that was easy to read. He would either stomp away like an angry little child, or puff his chest in pride and smile at everyone. She had seen both of his sides, and the current him was not a pretty sight. Blossom made a mental note not to let any of her girls close to him. They couldn't afford to lose any more of the workers to the untouchables.

«Just place out a couple shots and open two bears, I'll have them in the stomach before my ass hits this chair,» he shouted at her through the bar, and she flashed him one of her charming smiles while pouring up. It helped to give him some fan service before he reached the bar, and like the manchild he was, the brunette was smiling as he leaned over the bench, taking two shots at the same time.

«Day didn't go as planned?» She asked, shaking a mojito for the lady down in the corner. She was like any other around, with a huge cleave, tanned skin, blond hair and tons of makeup. The redhead could probably point out at least four things she had done wrong, and it was frankly a little distracting to watch. The perfectionist inside of her was hurting.

«This bitch I invested over a billion money on to break out of jail told me she needed over a week to find her sister. I've already gone over two weeks waiting, and if there is something I can't take, it's waiting. Bitch promised to find her asap.»

«Girls can be a real pain,» Blossom rose the bottle in her hands, and he took another shot after raising it over his head in a salute. The beer bottle was gone before she had made the drink for the lady. Filling a mojito glass with the drink, after dipping the top in sugar and lime, she handed the sweet drink to her.

«I fucking hate liars. But not you, Blossom. Because you're so damn cute.» She was so used to his odd comments and attempts of flirting, she made a pouting face just for him. It had become their little dance of the night. She would go along with his weird personality, and he would try his best to get in her pants, shorts, skirt and everything she was wearing.

Unluckily for them, the redhead could only keep him company for so long, and he was bound to notice the disguised Buttercup. He was too quick for his own good, and as fast as Blossom had turned her back to pick up a new bottle of whiskey, and he was holding around her in a tight grip. The brunette – currently blonde – in his arms was scared out of her mind.

«I don't think I've seen you here before. Are you new? You're so small, and your skin is so soft. What's your name, love?» Face redder than anything she had seen, and breath rapidly leaving her throat, she was at the verge of fainting.

«Butch, you should let Lilly go. She's new and very shy.»

«Lilly? Like the flower? No, this one looks more like a -» he let his fingers touch the back of her spine and the other rest on her cheek. It was an odd gesture for him; usually the brute would try to dominate the other by holding the chin or wrapping his hand around the neck, but he was calm. If it was a calm before the storm, then Blossom had a terrible feeling in her gut. He was too close to her. She could quickly come over the bench and give him a real roundhouse beating, but he most likely would have snapped her neck by then. His fingers touched the authentic, blonde wig.

«More like a Buttercup,» he whispered as he stared in to her lime eyes. The redhead felt like she was trapped in a teenager movie, and he was showing an abnormal behavior. Gentle movements? Butch wasn't capable of it. He saw women as something to have fun with, a living sextoy. This was wrong on so many levels, and too absurd.

His observation was freakishly correct too. Had she known he would have done this, she wouldn't have placed that yellow wig on her head, but picked a brown one instead, maybe even a read one; hell, pink would work if that's the kind of distraction he needed to get off her trail. The girl was frightened, and looked like a scared rabbit in the clutches of the wolves.

The whole situation would probably have been categorized as cute, had it not been for the infamous Butch being his lovely self.

«Listen, I'll pay you five times your salary if you drop everything and show me a good time right now.» Blossom felt like breaking them up there and then, but the brunette in his hands were faster. She gave him quite the juicy slap before storming off with very unfeminine language. Resting her elbow at the surface with chin in palm, the redhead was snickering low. Supporting girls with a backbone was one of her main hobbies as a bartender. Show those guys who's the real deal. Travel the world, make mistakes. Break a couple of balls on the way.

«Even if they are mere whores in your eyes, girls still have feelings,» she winked at him. He grunted, rubbing the red mark on his cheek, before demanding a couple more shots. Leaving the bottle up for quick use, she did her job with elegance.

Buttercup had a very normal reaction to what had happened, and the redhead wanted to go and make sure she was doing fine. There was a problem with the bar, however. She couldn't just leave it as it was because people were bound to go back and have it their way with the expensive alcohol. Buttercup surprised her, however. It only took her a couple of minutes of a time out, before she was back in the game; smiling at people and taking their orders. In the short couple of hours she had been there, the girl was a natural when it came to working.

Hurting Butch's pride was dangerous, and he was clearly hurt from her obvious disgust for him, yet he kept watching her. His eyes followed the movements, he casually sipped – not emptying the bottles like a hungry hippo – his beer and for the first time sins he arrived, he didn't pay the redhead any attention. She didn't know if that was a good thing, or feel sorry for Buttercup. Being the fixation of a high functioning psychopath couldn't be healthy.

Every time they shared a look, she would flip him off, and she would see the hint of a smile at the corner of his lips as he flipped her back. Blossom had to turn around to fix another drink to hide her own satisfaction. Whatever was going on between then was already written in the sky, and neither had the faintest of clues.

The green Jojo tipped the new girl generously, before he left. She was so baffled by all the money, she came running over to the redhead and a face full of questions. What was she going to do with all the money? She didn't need it where she came from. The brunette didn't have anywhere to go, and Blossom offered to share her bed. Again, it was something completely natural to her, and Buttercup couldn't exactly decline.

Sure, she could have let her take in on a motel or something, but that required the redhead to use the little spare time she had to show her around and fix things up. After a forty hours shift, she honestly didn't feel like doing it, and it would be easier to do so in a couple of hours. She had the day off then.

Luckily for her, the brunette agreed, but after the days of work, something stopped their big plan. Blossom had laid out a schedule for the whole day; show her the shopping centers, the carnival, the beach, everything they could manage the girl. However, in the middle of the night, when the brunette had stopped caring about sharing the bed with the other girl – finally if you asked her. It wasn't like they were going to fuck or anything – Maddie busted through the door. She was a medium sized girl with a sweet personality and neutral features.

«Blossom, you really have to get out of bed, like now. Sedusa want you downstairs and take care of – could you just come? It's really urgent, oh, oh. I'm so sorry, I didn't know you had company, I'll come back later if it's – No, I can't. You really have to come to the costume room, it's really urgent. Sedusa isn't very patient and I-»

«Yes, yes,» Blossom grunted as she rolled out of bed, Buttercup pulling it around herself with a greedy smile. Throwing the both of them a longing look, she pulled a sweater up from the floor and wore it like a house. The purple, knitted wool reached just the top of her knees and left one of her shoulders bare. It was the perfect outfit when the night was as cruel as the mother of the house. She moved all of her long hair over to her left shoulder, the one that wasn't covered.

Maddie was practically running on the spot to make the redhead move faster, not that it was working. She took her time shuffling down the stars and in to the changing room, where Sedusa was tripping impatiently, and mentally face palming as she took a look at what her girl was wearing.

«Could you not dress more decent?» She said with her cold voice, which made her glance over the – what she first had presumed was an empty room – guests. Oddly enough, she couldn't place any of them. The woman would usually go off about the expenses of a broken costume or a displeased costumer, but the redhead had a nick for faces, and they were neither workers nor costumers.

«I was sleeping and thought it was something minor like another rift in the string or something like that,» she honestly said, while scratching the back of her neck. The blonde was glaring at her, or something that seemed like passive aggressive staring, and the male was wrinkling his eyebrows while staring her up and down. She wanted to punch his face for staring at the goods.

«It seems like we've gotten another girl added to our family. She can't strip, however, so I suppose you will have to train her about the bar and waitering, and get up on the pole yourself.»

«Alright. What room do you want me to drop her off at?»

«Your room,» the woman smiled with an evil gleam. It woke the rest of her groggy brain. There was no way in hell her bed could fit three. She was already having a hard time managing sharing it with the brunette. Crossing her hands over her chest, she puffed herself up. Sedusa was strict, but in no way was she abusive. People often confused her with controlling and cruel, but the woman was a good listener and one could easily argue with her the first hour, then have a fun time with her the next.

«I already have one in my room, and not nearly enough space for the three of us,»

«Excuse me,»

«I've heard the couch isn't all too bad. We've even paid a fair price for the chairs. I can vouch for them being perfectly capable sleeping material.»

«Girls,» the male waved his hand in front of their locked stare, and gained their attention. She hadn't cared much about him, but now that he was craving it, she took in his apparence. He had red hair that reached the back of his neck, tied together. In one way, one could say they matched each other. He with his goofy red t-shirt and gray sweatpants, and her with the huge sweater. They had to be one hell of a sloppy sight. Did he come straight out of bed too?

The thing that captured her the most, was the color of his eyes. She snapped for her breath as she stared in to those crimson ones, memories of her past came rushing in. This was Brick Jojo, the man that had stood her up and suddenly ran off with Berserk. Last thing she had heard, he was on their honeymoon in Europe somewhere.

Blossom couldn't hear what he was saying, because she could feel her chest tighten up, and was old enough to place words on these dusty, painful memories. She had been so hurt by his betrayal, so heart broken at his abandonment, and she hated him for leaving her there after promising her so much.

The redhead was scared, angry, sad, and felt the weakness of her knees. Even if she hated him so intensely and wished she had never seen him again, her heart fluttered up and a spike of light and hope filled her soul.

«Works fine by me. Trying to push two separate beds in to your room wouldn't leave much space left, and I think going with a double bed would be the best thing. What do you think, Blossom?»

«Huh?» she perked up at her name and managed to rip her eyes off him and stare at the older woman. She rose an eyebrow at her confusion.

«A king size bed would be best, right? Brick is paying for it.»

«Brick Jojo,» she muttered as she glanced back at him. «Where is Berserk?» A look of panic spread across his face, but he managed to compose himself before it got too visible, but she had seen it. Something was wrong.

«She's back in Paris. Girl loves shopping,» he shrugged. Something about his voice. The male was lying, but Blossom knew better than to start a commotion in front of Sedusa. The redhead knew what battles to pick.

«Her name is Bubbles, and she's very shy,» Brick said, turning their attentions back to the blonde. She was another doll, with a smooth face and long, light eyelashes. She had the bluest of eyes and fairest of skin. Surely, heaven was dropping angels these last days, because she had yet to see anyone like the brunette in her bed and the blonde here.

«Come on, I'll show you to the room and take the couch tonight. That bed better be installed before nightfall tomorrow,» she pointed a threatening finger at Brick before grabbing the blonde. Protesting slightly, she loosened her grip and gave her a soft pat on the head. It seemed to do the trick, because her heels came up, and she moved forward.

«Nice contacts,» the redhead said sarcastic as she passed him. He almost sounded pissed off. Blossom then realized she wasn't wearing her brown contacts, and he had a perfect view of her odd pink ones. The redhead was sweating for a split second, before she processed his words. He thought her normal color was a fake one. Wonderful.

«Flown straight in from Spain,» she snorted as she pulled the blonde along with her. Fuck her life; it was going to be a very long, obnoxious night.

* * *

Mind blowing, right? Bet you guys didn't see this coming! Hopefully you didn't, so it would be more fun. Sorry for the way too late update, but here it is! I have not yet decided if I'm going to go back to the green ones, or continue on the purples. We'll just have to wait and see.

Thanks for reading this, leave a comment if you have the time and stay tuned for more plot twists, drama and fun! You're all awesome.


End file.
